Hope
by cinnamon badge
Summary: [DracoGinny] Third place in Pud's Great Draco & Ginny Contest 2006. Ginny Weasley flees from a country torn apart by Voldemort's evil, and finds something she never expected to have again: hope.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. The characters and part of the setting are not.

**Prologue**

Ginny liked to imagine he was just sleeping in after a long day laboring at the joke shop. He and Fred never did have much sense of their own limitations, and she had seen them countless times at the end of the workday tired to the bone. "The public has its demands, little sis," Fred had told her quite seriously once, as he rubbed his eyes. "As soon as we come up with something new they're just grabbing it off the shelves."

"It's exhausting being successful," George said, buffing his nails on the front of his robes.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What would we do without Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes?" she said sarcastically.

The twins exchanged a look. "I think you're on to something there, Gin," George said, grinning. "That might be a good slogan."

That was all he was doing now, looking to catch a bit of kip before returning to his store. And for a moment she was able to forget that their joke shop was gone now, and had been gone for three years. She could forget that, the last she had heard, it had been converted into a Death Eater recruitment center. The brightly colored signs advertising _The constipation sensation that's sweeping the nation!_ were papered over with _Purity of blood! It's worth fighting for!_, and their little flat was now a holding cell for the poor, captured Muggles who were used in initiations.

But she wouldn't think of that right now. No, she would think about George, and what he would be like when he woke from his enchanted slumber. He'd probably ask for Fred straight off, knowing him. Ask for something to eat, since his stomach was as bottomless as Ron's. She'd get to see him smile again, and tell awful jokes and tease her. She could hardly wait.

The Healer attending him approached the bed, and Ginny gave her a weak smile. They were on a first-name basis now, since Ginny had visited so many times. "All right?" she said gently.

"As well as I can be, Cassie," Ginny replied. "How's he been?"

"Stable. Always stable. I had someone come in and shave him and cut his hair, though I think he left it a bit long," Cassie said, frowning at George's nearly shoulder-length tresses.

"No," Ginny said quickly, "he liked it long." She reached up and fingered a lock of it, marveling at its brilliant color. Hers was a darker, subdued copper color, and she had always envied Fred and George's much brighter, redder shade.

Cassie waved her wand and conjured up another chair to sit beside her. "I think one of my trainees has gotten a bit of a crush on your brother here," she said with a smile, arranging her lime green robes about her knees. "Roberta's always asking if we should check on him, fluff his pillow, do another wand scan."

Ginny chuckled, or tried to. It had been so long since she had laughed last. "I'm sure he'd love the idea of some witch trying to _fluff his pillow_ while he was asleep."

Cassie pretended to look aghast, but ruined it by smiling. "I'd be sacked for allowing such activity!" she joked.

"When George wakes up I'll tell him, and you'll see how he reacts." Ginny grinned up at his calm, pale face, and missed the pitying expression on Cassie's.

"Ginny --" When she had the younger witch's attention, she reached out and took both of Ginny's hands in her own. "I know you believe he'll wake up --"

"He will," Ginny said firmly. "If I know George --"

"But the truth is he may never wake," Cassie said, squeezing her hands a little. "I've told you this before, and I'll say it again: we don't know what he was hit with. Some kind of Sleeping Charm the likes of which we've never seen before, or a Dark curse."

"It's a Dark curse," Ginny said, nodding. "Bill rescued him from a group of Death Eaters."

Cassie sighed. "We've been looking through all kinds of ancient texts, and experimenting with different potions and spells, but the fact is, Ginny, your brother is asleep and has been for almost four years. Muggle Healers call this state a coma, if I'm remembering correctly, and even they haven't found any way of reviving patients. The body is alive and unharmed, but the mind is dormant. We can't do anything but wait."

"But you have to keep looking," Ginny said hoarsely. No matter how many times she heard them, Cassie's words still hit her like a Stunning spell each time. "There's got to be something in one of those books, there _must _be..."

"We are," Cassie said. "We're still looking. Merlin, we've even got a former Spellweaver trying to come up with a brand new spell to counteract this one." She bit her lower lip before continuing. "What I'm trying to say is --"

"I should stop coming to visit," Ginny said. Cassie blinked, startled. "I should say goodbye to him. I should accept that he isn't going to wake up."

Ginny wasn't stupid. She knew she was clinging to false hopes, and that it was unhealthy to do so. George's state had been exactly the same ever since he had fallen before that Death Eater's wand; he had never shown any signs of improving or declining. Always just more of the same. Bloody George. He'd probably think this was some great lark.

A pause, and then -- "Yes, Ginny. As much as I hate saying it, it would be for the best. You know we'll continue watching over him and looking for a cure, but there's little you can do except prepare yourself for the worst."

Ginny chuckled again, but this one was devoid of any kind of mirth. "Maybe we all should have done that. Maybe then there wouldn't be so many dead."

Cassie winced and squeezed her hands once more before letting go. "I'll leave you with him, then, to say goodbye," she said, standing. "I'll be on my rounds if you need me." After hesitating a moment, she pulled Ginny into her arms for a bone-crushing hug that the redhead barely felt, and then she was gone.

Ginny turned back to George and reached for his hand. "Well," she said. It was a start, for she wasn't exactly sure how to go about giving him all the horrible news. "George, I think you can hear me no matter what they say. I know you're in there somewhere, and you can understand me. So I'm just going to say everything now, though I know we should have told you sooner.

"Voldemort won the final battle, George," she said, and tears welled in her eyes. There were some things that time could not dull. "I saw it. He sent the Killing Curse at Harry and Harry was too tired to deflect it. And he died, George. He died and Voldemort laughed. The Death Eaters all cheered.

"But we didn't surrender. We fought back, we cursed and hexed them left and right and we got a lot of them, but it wasn't enough and we had to run away. Dad grabbed me and we ran from the battlefield and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. We've been living there ever since, getting our groceries delivered through a neat little system the Resistance has set up. We can't even go outside, George. I haven't been outside in three years." Ginny paused to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her robes.

"So many are dead," she went on, her voice soft. "Nearly everyone at the Ministry was killed, and only the purebloods were spared. Only purebloods, and there's so few of them, George! They're killing so many for just a few people? It doesn't make any sense at all, but I guess it doesn't change the way things are either.

"Mum's dead. MacNair got her at the final battle, at Godric's Hollow. Dad wouldn't talk to me for a whole week afterwards, and I had to make him eat or else he wouldn't." She paused. "I'm glad you can't see him now, George. He looks awful. All his hair's gone, and he's so thin. We hardly speak to each other at all.

"And we're the only ones left. Percy...oh, but you were already asleep when he made his amends with Mum and Dad! Yeah, he joined the Order and everything, and he was killed at the Ministry of Magic Massacre. Scrimgeour gave Mum and Dad the Order of Merlin, Third Class, for him. Mum cried.

"Then Bill next. Fenrir and his lot cornered him and Fenrir decided to finish the job he started, and they -- they tore him apart, George." She bit back a sob. "They couldn't find his body. We looked but they just...just ripped him to shreds.

"After him was Charlie. He was with his dragons, and a Death Eater cursed them or something because they went crazy and broke free of their cages. Charlie and all his crew were burnt alive.

"Then Ron. Ron and Hermione died in each other's arms seconds after Harry died. I'm sure you would probably think up some way to tease him for dying with the woman he loved, George, but I can't think of anything.

"And finally Fred. He came here almost every day after you were hit with this Sleeping Curse, you know, and he'd sit and talk to you for hours and hours until Mum or Dad came to drag him home. He missed you so much. He was never the same after you fell asleep. And -- yeah, Mulciber got him. At the final battle. It was..." Ginny shuddered as she remembered tripping over Fred's body during the battle.

"So it's just me and Dad left, at Sirius's old house. Most of the Order are dead now too, though we can't be sure. We haven't heard from Lupin in a long time, so I suppose he might still be alive somewhere. Same for Slughorn and Hestia Jones, and a few others. But everyone else...yeah. Not the news you wanted to hear, is it?

"They make everyone not pureblooded wear these bands around their arms. The Muggles have red bands, and the Muggle-born wizards and halfbloods wear blue ones. Dad and I don't have any, since we've been in hiding. I've heard that they can be attacked in broad daylight by bands of Death Eaters, beaten and tortured and raped and murdered in the street and no one will raise a hand to stop them. No one, George. And the _Quibbler_ (remember that mad old magazine? It's now the news magazine of the Resistance, since the _Daily Prophet _is under 'new management') the _Quibbler_ says that they're spreading onto the Continent too. Death Eater camps are popping up in Northern France and Spain. He plans to take over the world, I think. _And no one raises a hand to stop him_."

Ginny had to pause there and gather herself again. She had never spilled everything out like this before, though it was constantly simmering under the surface of her calm demeanor. She tried to think if she had forgotten to mention anything, and decided not.

"I wonder sometimes how Dad and I managed to escape with our lives when so many others didn't. I'm not particularly powerful, neither is Dad. I sometimes feel like they're only _allowing_ us to live, George. I hate being at their mercy. I want to fight back and destroy Voldemort myself, but there just aren't enough resisters out there. We have nothing. No one to turn to.

"So maybe I should stop wishing you'd wake up, George. Because there's only darkness and doom and death here with the living. Stay where you are, wherever it might be, and maybe you at least can avoid existing in this hell and be safe."

George's chest heaved suddenly in a deep sigh. Before, years ago, she would have jumped up and declared it a sign that he was waking up, just watch, in another minute he'll open his eyes -- but now she knew it was just some kind of knee-jerk reaction to something. It happened all the time, and it didn't mean a thing.

"I love you, George," she whispered, and she kissed the hand she held. "Dad does too. We miss you and hope that you're okay. And happy birthday," she added, almost forgetting. "Your birthday's tomorrow. You're going to be twenty-three. I brought you something, from me and Dad." She reached into a pocket in her robes and pulled out a small music box.

Ginny set it on the table beside his bed and frowned at it. "I know it's not much," she admitted, "but it's all right. I know how you like the Weird Sisters, so I charmed it to play one of their songs. I found it at Grimmauld Place, but it's not cursed or anything, I promise. Enjoy, George.

"We love you...goodbye."

She pulled herself to her feet as though she had aged fifty years in the hour she had been by his side, and bent to kiss his forehead. His skin was cool and dry like parchment under her lips, and when she let go of his hand it fell lifelessly back to his side.

Numb, tired, and hungry, Ginny found Cassie and told her she was leaving.

"We'll take good care of him here," Cassie promised, and she hugged Ginny tightly again. "If he had to be somewhere it's best he's here. St. Mungo's is the safest place in all Britain right now."

"I know. We trust you, me and Dad," Ginny said. "Play the music box for him sometimes, will you?" Cassie nodded solemnly, and, with one last farewell, Ginny went down to the lobby and took one of the specially-warded fireplaces home via the Floo network.


	2. One

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. The characters and part of the setting are not.

**Chapter One**

Dinner was a dismal affair. Ginny told her father about saying goodbye to George and not going back, and he seemed to take it surprisingly well. Ginny's dinner -- a rather weak imitation of Molly's excellent vegetable stew -- sat heavily in her stomach as she thought of George lying alone in hospital. _No one should have to be alone_, she thought, but the conviction that had once been behind that belief was all too absent.

They sat together quietly by the fire after cleaning up their dishes, Arthur with the latest issue of the _Quibbler_ and Ginny with Hermione's old class notes. Ginny hadn't been able to finish her sixth year at Hogwarts, not after the massive battle there destroyed entire wings of the ancient castle. Reading Hermione's neat, slanted script was comforting somehow; it was like Hermione herself was not that far away, perhaps up in the Blacks's library researching useful jinxes and curses while Harry and Ron played chess nearby.

"Ginny."

She jumped at the sound of her father's voice. As she had said to George, he hardly ever spoke to her or said anything at all, preferring to keep to himself. The only times they had spoken in the past few years had been when he had something important to tell her.

"What is it, Dad?" she said.

He was staring at something in the _Quibbler_. "You can't stay here anymore, Gin," he said quietly.

"What?"

Arthur closed his eyes. "I can't let you stay here, living like this. Not when you're still so young and have so much of your life ahead of you."

"Dad." She tossed aside Hermione's notes and leaned forward in her chair. "This is where I belong, here with you. We're all we've got left, and we have the Resistance to support --"

"The Resistance?" He gave a low, dry chuckle. "Ginny, the Order and everyone fighting with them has been decimated. Do you understand that? Every week new deaths and disappearances are reported in the _Quibbler_, and we just can't keep up with the numbers flocking to the Death Eaters. We _lost_, Gin. We lost the war."

"No, no," Ginny whispered, tears blooming in her eyes. "As long as there's hope --"

"They got Moody last week, did I tell you?" Arthur said, peering at her from over his reading glasses. "Took down five Death Eaters with him, but he's dead all the same. No one has heard from Lupin in years, and they're starting to suspect he's gone as well. McGonagall, Mundungus, Scrimgeour, most of the Wizengamot. All the insiders we had in high places are dead or missing, Ginny, and those that are left have gone into hiding like we have. But -- but what kind of life is that?" He shook his head and stared into the fire. "You're almost twenty years old, Ginny, and you've been living here for three years. Do you want to live another hundred like this? Don't you want to ride a broomstick again, go swimming, breathe fresh air again?"

Ginny turned away and halfheartedly wiped at the tears rolling down her face. Remembering the lazy summer days when she had played Quidditch with her brothers almost seemed like looking at someone else's life. The sun was a memory, a shadow of a memory, for she had been in the dark for so long. Flowers? What did they smell like? How did grass feel against her skin, when she walked barefoot through the open fields around the Burrow?

"I want you to live your life, Ginny," Arthur said. "Live it to the fullest extent, so you can look back and decide it was worth having."

"What about you?" Ginny cried. "Are you just going to send me away, then, and stay here in this house alone?"

"I'm not alone," he said. "There's George. I've been thinking about having him transferred here, and asking a Healer to --"

"No, Dad. No." She ran shaky hands through her hair. "Who'll make dinner for you? Who will clean the house --"

"Ginny," he said, smiling indulgently, "I'm very capable of taking care of myself. Do you think any husband of Molly Prewett would go almost thirty years and not pick up one or two things?"

"What would you do? Here, by yourself?"

"I could offer beds to those in hiding," he said thoughtfully. "A safe place to stay for travelers. A headquarters for the Resistance."

"You can do all those things now," Ginny said firmly. "I'm not in your way. I'm in the Resistance too."

"No, you're not," Arthur said, and there was a note of desperation in his voice. "Do you know what the Resistance is, Gin? It's witches and wizards like me who have nothing left to lose. We've seen life, we've seen two wars with Voldemort come and go, and we're too old to regret it if we die. For every mission that works five fail, and we lose more and more witches and wizards every day. I can't let you be involved in that, Ginny. I want you to go somewhere safe, get married, start a family. I can't give you very much, I never could, but I can give you a real life."

Ginny's heart felt like it was about to break. He didn't want her here. What had happened to staying together, staying strong, strength in numbers and all that? Part of her knew that it was all for her, and she might one day be able to find real happiness again. And another part of her, the stubborn part, would never agree to leaving her father here alone, but she didn't listen to her stubborn side very much anymore.

"What's your plan, then?" she said, resigned. "I thought all the International Apparition Points were heavily guarded and blocked by Death Eaters."

"They are," Arthur agreed. "The public ones are, at least." He leaned over and handed her the _Quibbler_, directing her attention to a half-page advertisement on the right side:

Witches of Britain! Did you dream as a girl of your wedding day?

Did you picture a beautiful, elegant ceremony?

Was your prince charming an _American_ wizard?

Then dream no more!

Spillman's Speedy Spouse represents the best and brightest of America's

wizarding population, and they are pining away for the lovely British witches

they've heard so much about!

Simply send in a recent photo of yourself and within two weeks, the wizard of

your dreams will send for you!

Ginny couldn't read any more of the copy. "You want me to be a _mail order bride_?" she gasped.

"I've looked into it," Arthur said. "They're the only company in England with secret Apparition Points still in service. If there was another choice I'd take it, but this is the only way of getting you out of the country safely, Gin."

"But -- but -- a _mail order bride_, Dad!"

He gazed at her patiently. "Would you rather be married to a wizard who will take care of you and protect you, or live here and pretend that things are fine when they aren't at all?"

"Dad, I -- I can't." She gave him back his magazine and stood. "I can't even think about doing something like that. I'm sorry. I'm going to bed." She kissed his bald head and headed upstairs to her room.

A mail order bride! The words rang in her ears as she went up the front staircase. Her cheeks were still stained with tears as she went down the hallway, and the mirror said halfheartedly, "Cheer up dear, nobody likes red puffy eyes" as she passed. She had planned on going right to her room and curling up in her bed, but the first bedroom on her left made her stop.

_Live your life, Ginny._

Molly would have had these rooms cleaned out months ago, everything packed into boxes and labeled neatly and stored away. But Molly wasn't here, and each time Ginny or Arthur had attempted to clean out the other bedrooms they had quickly come up with an excuse for leaving things the way they were.

"None of it's in our way," Arthur had said after their last try, over two years ago. "And we aren't especially needful of anything in there."

"Let's just leave it," Ginny had agreed, and so they had.

Ginny pushed into that first room and stifled a sneeze as she stepped across the threshold. The dust was an inch thick, coating everything with a fuzzy gray blanket, but even so she could identify Bill and Fleur's room.

Ginny reached out and brushed clean a dark poster, still spellotaped to the wall, and found it was of the Paris skyline. Fleur's doing, of course. The bed was unmade, the cotton sheets wrinkled and faded, and the night table beside it was covered with small vials and pots of the potions Bill had needed to curb his wolfish tendencies. Makeup was scattered over the bureau, a shirt that needed darning draped over a chair, and several photographs of a little blonde girl were stuck into the frame of the mirror: Fleur's sister, Gabrielle. Their clothes still hung in the closet, dirty laundry that would never be washed sat in a rumpled heap in the bin. If not for the dust, it looked as though they were going to come back any minute.

"Hey Ginny-Gin," Bill would say, tugging on her hair the way he had since she was a baby. Bill was the only one of her brothers that had always taken her seriously, and had not looked at her as just the little sister. It was he who had listened patiently when Ginny was convinced there was a monster hiding in her closet, Bill who had defended her when Ron and the twins ganged up on her, and Bill who had taught her how to fly her first broomstick.

Why hadn't she felt it when he died? Why hadn't the sky opened up, or the earth trembled beneath her feet; why hadn't his dying scream echoed across the wind and rattled in her ears? Why did she still feel like she was the same old Ginny, even though he and Charlie and Percy and Fred and Ron and Mum were dead?

It was a dollhouse, the Black mansion, empty rooms devoid of anything resembling life, yet carefully furnished and decorated as though waiting for inhabitants. It sat expectantly, a reflection of life without having any. Sometimes at night, when both she and her father had gone to bed, she could close her eyes and imagine that they were still alive, and asleep. One night she had gone so far as to walk to the room Ron and Harry had shared, and when she had pressed her hand against the closed door, she swore she could _feel_ them inside, laying in their beds.

She left Bill and Fleur's room and shut the door behind her. Lupin and Tonks's room was just across the hall, but she never went in there. Unlike Bill and Fleur, who were dead, Lupin was possibly still alive, and Tonks had simply never come back to reclaim any of her things.

Her room was still the one she had shared with Hermione, at least until Ron and Hermione had come back from a mission one day and abruptly announced that they had been married by a magistrate at the Ministry of Magic. Molly had been furious at first, yelling at Ron so that the whole house could hear, but Ginny remembered him standing there before his mother, holding Hermione's hand in his, chin raised and eyes confident. _He's not a little boy anymore_, Ginny remembered thinking. _He's a man now. _And when Molly had realized that for herself, she had burst into tears and pulled Hermione into her arms, welcoming her to the family.

They had all been dead a few months later.

Ginny scrubbed at her eyes and let herself into her room. Hermione's things were the only ones that had been moved of all the occupants of the house; Ginny and Arthur had moved them down into Ron and Harry's room. It looked oddly bare without Hermione's teetering stacks of books, and her bed in its plain red covers, and the Muggle picture of her parents on the nightstand between their beds. "I've told them all about Ron, of course," she had said the day after they were married. "I wish they could meet him, and they keep asking me if we could have lunch or dinner somewhere, but I keep telling them we're really busy looking for Horcruxes. I suppose they just don't understand. It's hard."

"They're Muggles," Ginny said. "Of course they wouldn't understand that kind of thing."

"But they're my parents too," Hermione said, gazing at their picture. "I don't like thinking that I can't talk to them about anything anymore."

Ginny brushed her teeth slowly, and dressed in faded pajama bottoms that had once been Charlie's and one of Ron's Chudley Cannons T-shirts. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Strange dreams plagued her all night, visions of werewolves and Killing Curses and her friends as they were tortured by Death Eaters. She ran, ran as fast as she could, but they were always there, just around the bend, the next turn, leering at her with their dark eyes shining behind white masks, black cloaks fluttering in a dead breeze --

But then she went around a corner in a hedge maze and it wasn't a Death Eater or a giant or Voldemort himself standing there, but Harry.

"Harry?" Ginny sobbed, and she lunged forward and threw herself into his arms.

"Hey, Gin," he said, and his voice was wonderful.

"Come back, Harry," she said, clinging to him. "I can't stand it anymore, I miss you so much --"

"I'm okay, Gin," he said, and he held her at arm's length. "We're all okay." Where there had been no one before, she could now see everyone she knew standing behind him: there were Ron and Hermione, arms around each other; Percy and Fred and Charlie, Bill and Fleur, Dumbledore and McGonagall, Sirius, Molly, and more shadowy figures beyond them.

"Mum," she cried, and she ran to her mother and hugged her.

"Oh Ginny dear," Molly said, sniffing back tears. "We're okay. We're fine, love."

"But George?" Ginny said, and she looked from Molly to Fred. "George isn't --?"

"He's somewhere in the middle," Fred said. "Not quite dead, but not really alive."

"Please let me come with you," Ginny begged. "Me and Dad both, let us --"

"Now I won't have you talking that way, Ginevra Molly Weasley!" her mother snapped, hands on her hips. "You're alive, you should be thankful for that."

"Thankful?" Ginny screamed. "We have _nothing_, Mum! Everyone is gone, everyone is _here_, with you! Dad doesn't even want to have me around anymore --"

"You know that's not true, Gin," Charlie said. "Dad would never --"

"I hate it," Ginny said, her eyes blurring with tears yet again. "There are so few left, and they can't risk coming to see us, so it's always just me and Dad, and we hardly talk."

"Ginny-Gin," Bill said, and he pulled away from Fleur just as Ginny collapsed into him, sobbing. "Hey hey, it's okay. We know how you're feeling. It's okay."

"I just wonder sometimes why I even get up in the morning," Ginny said, reveling in the familiar comfort of her family's presence. "There's nothing. Nothing."

"There's love." She raised her eyes and found Dumbledore's twinkling blue ones gazing down at her. "Love is always a reason to get up in the morning. Love gives us strength when we think there is none left."

"But I --" She looked at Harry, who blushed profusely under her scrutiny, and she said something she never would have been brave enough to say before. "I don't want anyone but you, Harry."

"I'm, er, flattered, really," he stuttered, and Ron snickered until Hermione jabbed him in the ribs. "But Gin, I'm dead."

"Well-spotted, Harry," said Fred cheerily.

"What I'm trying to say," Harry went on, glaring at the two of them, "is that you've still got big things to do, Ginny."

"Big things?"

"Everyone is in charge of his or her own fate," Dumbledore said, with a small smile, "but, admittedly, some life paths are more profitable than others. As such, we are in a position to help you make the right choice."

Ginny frowned, trying to follow, until the pieces suddenly snapped into place. "Spillman's Speedy Spouse," she whispered.

"There's a reason why that advert appeared in the _Quibbler_," Dumbledore said, "and a reason why it caught Arthur's attention, Miss Weasley. You were meant to see it."

"You want me to send myself to some strange American wizard?" Ginny shrieked, pushing herself away from Bill. "Are you all _nutters_?"

"Think of the alternative," Harry said, stepping forward. "Would you really rather just mope around Sirius's house and feel sorry for yourself?"

"I do _not_ --"

"Think of it: America!" Percy said, eyes shining behind his glasses. "I've always wanted to go there. I've heard the opportunities for advancement are excellent in their wizarding government --"

"America hasn't been hit yet by the Death Eaters," Bill said. "It's still safe, and it likely will be for a long time while Voldemort gathers supporters, since it's so big and there are even fewer purebloods there."

"There's no other way to get out of Britain," Hermione said. "Look, Ginny," she went on, when it appeared as though Ginny was about to retort, "I know what you're thinking, and I know I'd have the same thoughts. You feel like you're giving up your freedom by agreeing to marry some strange wizard you've never met before."

"Don't worry, I'll haunt his arse if he treats you badly," Ron growled, and everyone shushed him.

Ginny blinked as something occurred to her. "You know," she breathed. "You already know who will choose me if I say yes."

"It's brilliant, knowing the future," Fred said with a grin.

"Then why can't you just tell me, and help me decide to do it?"

"All you need to know is that, if you decide to become a mail order bride, you won't regret it," said Hermione.

Ginny bit her lip and looked at all of them. Her family, her friends, all the people in the world she loved. Surely they wouldn't steer her wrong, wouldn't make her life any more miserable than it already was?

"Will it help Dad?" she asked.

"In the long run, yes," said Molly.

"Will I be happy?"

"Happier than you would be if you stayed in Grimmauld Place," said Charlie.

She opened her mouth to ask a third question -- _will I find love?_ -- but then decided against it. She couldn't ask that while Harry was standing just next to her. Regardless, Dumbledore was giving her an amused look, and when she raised her eyebrows at him, he very faintly nodded his head: _yes_.

"Well," she said, blinking away her angry tears. "I suppose if it'll help Dad --"

"Follow your heart, Miss Weasley, it always knows what it's doing," Dumbledore said, and then they had all faded into darkness.

The next morning Arthur was already in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea, when Ginny arrived downstairs. She sat down across from him at the long table. "Dad," she said, "how do I go about becoming a mail order bride, exactly?"


	3. Two

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. The characters and part of the setting are not.

**Chapter Two**

The company name had not been deceptive in the least; when they said their services were speedy they had really meant it. Not a week after Ginny had sent in her questionnaire and a photograph of herself -- Arthur had to pull out the old family camera and take it, and she had then touched it up to hide the shadows in her cheeks and under her eyes -- a sealed letter arrived via Floo with Ginny's name on it.

Dear Miss Ginevra Weasley,

We are happy to inform you that there has been considerable interest in you ever since you submitted your photograph to Spillman's Speedy Spouse. All the most eligible bachelor wizards in America are now clamoring to know: _who is that witch in the picture?_

Out of all the interested wizards, however, one in particular has risen above the rest. You couldn't ask for a better wizard than the one you're going to marry. Once we notified him that he was the lucky wizard, he sent the following instructions for your emigration to America.

We wish you happiness in your marriage, and offer you this discount coupon for Floo Powder as your first wedding gift.

Congratulations! You're about to embark on the most wonderful journey in life: marriage!

Sincerely,

Rigel Spillman

Director, Spillman's Speedy Spouse

Ginny glanced at the slip of paper that had come enclosed with the letter, and found in it rather lengthy directions. Her husband-to-be lived in what the Muggles called Washington, in a city called Seattle, and it was all the way on the other side of the country. She would have to Apparate across America in shifts after she arrived in New York, and in total it would take nearly an entire day.

They began packing for her immediately, since the wizard had written he was expecting her in two days' time. All of Ginny's worn clothing, as little as there was, was packed away into her old Hogwarts trunk, along with a few books, Hermione's class notes, some of her brothers's clothes she had taken to wearing to bed, and Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

She took something else of Harry's too. "Dad," she said, handing him the small hand mirror. "These are two-way mirrors. If you keep this one and I take the other one, we'll be able to talk to each other."

"These were Sirius's, weren't they?" Arthur said, peering at his with interest.

"Yeah, he gave them to Harry. I won't be able to Floo you internationally, and I don't think the transatlantic owl post would reach you here, so we'll use these, all right?"

"All right," Arthur said. He smiled mistily and pulled her into his embrace. "If your mum could see you now, the beautiful young woman you've become..."

Somehow, through means Ginny hadn't been able to figure out, Arthur got in contact with Tonks and asked her to escort Ginny to the International Apparition Point that Speedy Spouse used. The witch arrived bright and early the day after Ginny's letter came, and marked her arrival by promptly tripping over the ugly umbrella stand in the front hall. Luckily Mrs. Black had found another portrait to be in; it turned out that there was one of her at Malfoy Manor, and she now spent all of her time there.

"Wotcher, Gin," Tonks said with a faint smile. "All ready to go to America, are you?"

"I hope so," Ginny said. She turned to her father. "Now don't forget, Dad --"

"Every Thursday night, yes," he said. "We'll talk with the mirrors, I didn't forget. I'm not that old, you know."

Ginny smiled and hugged him. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, Gin."

"I'm sure he'll take good care of her," Tonks said, picking up one end of the trunk while Ginny picked up the other. "If he doesn't, we'll hear about it, and there'll be hell to pay!"

Ginny hugged her father one last time, wondering if she'd ever see him again, and before she knew it Tonks had opened the front door and they were _outside_.

Number Twelve popped back out of sight as soon as Ginny's shoe hit the pavement, but she hardly noticed for the deep breaths of air she was taking. For all the horrible things happening in England she had half-expected that the sun would have dimmed, the weather turned even chillier and colder than normal, but it was a beautiful early spring day. The sun was brilliant and shone so brightly in her eyes that Ginny was temporarily blinded.

"Come on, Gin, we can't linger," Tonks said, and she dumped the trunk into the boot of a nondescript Muggle car. "You know how to do Concealment Charms, don't you?"

"I think I read about them last month in Hermione's notes," Ginny said. "But no, I've never tried to do any myself."

"Well get in the car and put on your glamor charms first, and then I'll show you." They got in and buckled their seat belts, and while Tonks went about changing her hair color and facial features, Ginny cast several quick spells that darkened her hair to near-black, turned her eyes blue, and erased her freckles.

Tonks looked her over, made a few adjustment of her nose and mouth, then nodded. "Right. A Concealment Charm covers the presence of magic, so if we encounter any Death Eaters -- which we probably will -- they'll think this is how we really look. They won't sense the glamors. Now, it's really a pretty simple wand movement --" she demonstrated with a smart flick of her wrist "-- and the words --"

"_Cachet totalus_," Ginny said.

"Yup. Let's see you do it."

It took one or two tries, but Ginny eventually managed a decent Concealing Charm. Tonks then cast her own, and then started up the car.

"You can drive one of these things?" Ginny asked, surprised.

Tonks shrugged. "Once you get the hang of it it's not too bad. Kingsley taught me. Oh!" She smacked her forehead and then started fishing around in her robes. "I know they're here somewhere..."

Ginny drew away when she saw the two blue armbands Tonks pulled out.

"We need them, Gin," Tonks said firmly, seeing her reaction. "If we're caught without armbands we're as good as dead." She waited until Ginny had taken one and slid it up her arm, before putting on her own.

The ride to the International Apparition Point was relatively uneventful. The streets of London, which she had remembered as being packed to capacity each time she had been there, were nearly empty of traffic and pedestrians, and the people they saw appeared terrified, hunched over. Tonks was a careful driver, which surprised Ginny, and they made good time going across the city with the rest of the scant Muggle traffic.

The only hitch in their trip came at Charing Cross Road, not far from the Leaky Cauldron. They heard the screaming and shouting first, and then, right there on the sidewalk, they saw two Death Eaters entertaining themselves with a Muggle woman and her teenage daughter. The Death Eaters didn't even bother to cover their faces anymore, but laughed and openly revealed their identities. The daughter's face was covered in bruises, and the woman was begging for her to be spared.

"Don't look, don't watch it," Tonks murmured, and Ginny fought to keep her eyes averted. All around them people were simply continuing on their way, staring ahead, as though a double rape wasn't going on under their noses.

The particular International Apparition Point they were headed to had once been public, run out of an old department store, but since the end of the war it had been relocated to a private flat in Soho. Tonks parked the car in the street outside a rundown building in Dean Street, and the two of them got out. After shrinking Ginny's trunk so it would fit in her pocket, they headed into the building and up to the fourth floor. Ginny took off her blue armband as soon as they were inside and shoved it into her pocket, and both of them removed their glamors.

"Room 439, Kingsley said it was," Tonks muttered under her breath, and after walking down several silent hallways they found the one they were looking for. Tonks knocked.

The door opened a crack, just enough for Ginny to see a beady eye staring out at them. "What do you want?" a raspy voice issued forth.

"Are you interested in buying new carpets?" Tonks asked.

"We just had new carpeting installed."

"But these are much better," Tonks said, and the door opened all the way to reveal a grandfatherly old wizard with canary yellow robes draped over his portly frame.

"Come in, come in," he said, and they were ushered into an eclectic front parlor. The old wizard shut the door behind them and Ginny heard several invisible locks sliding into place. "You must be the Weasley girl," he said, turning to her, his voice now kind and understanding. He smiled. "First time going to America?"

"Yeah," Ginny admitted.

"Don't you fret about it, my dear," he said, and he escorted them deeper into the flat. "Many first-timers are worried about Apparating such a great distance, but you just don't let it get to you -- ah, here we are!"

Right in the middle of what had appeared to be a normal Muggle flat was suddenly a spartan, all-white processing room, looking similar to the lobby at St. Mungo's. A long desk ran along one wall, and across from it were three hard white chairs. Behind the desk, a bored witch in pink robes was blowing bubbles with her gum while she curled the ends of her hair with her wand.

"Opal!" the old man snapped. "My great-niece," he said to Tonks and Ginny apologetically. "Former Ministry customs official, though you can't tell. Opal, this young lady is going to America this morning and she needs to have her paperwork checked over."

Ginny pulled out the forms Arthur had gotten for her and handed them to Opal, who continued popping her gum while she looked over the papers.

"Reason for leaving Britain?" she said.

"I'm --" Ginny felt her face go red. "I'm a mail order bride."

If Opal was at all surprised it didn't show. "How long do you plan to visit America?"

"Indefinitely, I think."

"Are you bringing anything with you besides personal items?"

"Er, an Invisibility Cloak and a two-way mirror."

She continued her perusal, and then pulled out a big red stamp and marked each sheet. "You're all set," Opal said, and for a brief moment Ginny thought she saw a look of pity in the witch's eyes.

"Well, this is where we say goodbye, Gin," Tonks said. "Don't worry about your dad, we'll check in on him now and then."

"We?"

"Me and Kingsley. So you don't need to concern yourself about any of us, but don't go having so much fun in America that you forget us."

"I won't." Ginny hugged her friend. "I'll miss all of you and think about you every day. Tell me if any of the missing turn up, will you? Like Lupin or the Patils?"

Tonks's eyes had darkened slightly at the mention of Lupin, but it was gone in an instant. "We will. Though the more likely scenario is we'll be telling you how they were killed," she said, frowning.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Ginny said. "Mum always told us that." She smiled one last time at Tonks. "Goodbye. I hope we see each other again."

"Of course we will," Tonks said. "Now go, Apparate into the arms of your prince charming." With one final farewell hug, Tonks waved to her and the old wizard showed her the way out.

"Step this way, please," Opal said, and Ginny followed her into another, smaller white room with a low platform at its center. "That's the Apparition Point," she explained, pointing. "I'll give you the name of the city you're aiming for -- New York -- and all you have to do is think _New York_ and the Point will do the rest. American customs officials are waiting on the other end, and they'll give you directions from there." She paused, as Ginny started taking deep breaths to calm herself. "You'll be okay, I think," she said abruptly. Ginny stared at her. "Lots of the girls that come through here as mail order brides just look so beaten and defeated, but you -- you're a tough one."

"Six older brothers do that to a girl," Ginny said dryly.

Opal popped her gum. "War does that to a girl," she said, and Ginny was reminded of Luna, spacy and otherworldly Luna, who had always come out with profound observations when they least expected it. Luna had survived too, survived to help her father publish the _Quibbler_ every week.

"It'll be two AM in New York when you get there," Opal went on. "They don't usually allow travelers in outside business hours, because the officials hate having to come in so late, but they've been making allowances for England since the war. And if you're going somewhere else beyond that --"

"Seattle," Ginny said.

"Yeah, that's another three hours behind New York. Your inner clock will be thrown off completely. It'll feel like night to you, but by the time you get there it'll be late morning." She checked her watch, though it was no ordinary watch; before she lowered her arm again Ginny caught a glimpse of several planets and constellations. "Right. They should be all set for you. Go ahead and step onto the platform, if you've got everything you need."

Ginny took one last, deep breath, and climbed to the middle of the Point. Opal flashed her an encouraging smile, and it was Ginny's last look at England, her birthplace and home.

_It's dark here_, was her first impression of America. Once she had caught her breath again, after the tight, squeezing feeling of Apparition, she noticed that the room she had Apparated to was near black and silent. Instantly her guard went up, and she reached for her wand.

"Oh, Merlin," a voice muttered, and suddenly a brilliant glow emitted from a wandpoint not three feet from her. A young man's face came into view. "We were hoping you weren't coming yet. We're in the middle of a drill right now --"

With a burst of energy, all the lights came back on, and Ginny was once again blinded.

"Well, not anymore, I guess," he said, and he muttered _nox_ and his light went out. "We've been having drills since you Brits had your war, just in case Lord Voldy-thing decides he wants the States too."

"But surely he couldn't --"

"Yeah, but we're prepared nevertheless," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, guess I have to be official now." He straightened his robes and stood tall. "Welcome, foreign visitor, to the United States. I am Officer Walt Bangs, and I hope your stay in our country is a pleasant one. Please descend slowly from the Apparition Point. If you have become disoriented by your journey, medical assistance is available."

"Actually, I'm fine, thanks," Ginny said, stepping down.

"Right, I'll need to see your paperwork." He looked over the forms just as Opal had, and seemed to find them just as satisfactory. "Applying for residency, eh?" he said. "I knew this wasn't just a trip for your health. With the Brits it never is anymore, is it?" When Ginny said nothing, he went on. "Right, well, it says here you're going all the way to Seattle, eh? My gran lives out there, hates it."

"I'm sure it's lovely," Ginny said, her heart sinking.

"Rains too much, she says. Anyway --" Bangs waved his wand and the door opened into a narrow hallway. They started down it as he continued. "You've got a long day of Apparating ahead of you, and we never let transatlantic Apparators travel any farther until they've rested at least three hours. There's a lobby out here, and someone will come get you and take you to the next Apparition Point when it's time." He yawned hugely, just as they reached a broad room with rows of beds and chairs in it. "I'm going off-duty now. Have a nice trip." He waved and went back the other way down the hall.

Ginny went to the nearest bed and set her shrunken trunk on the chair beside it. Though she knew she had to rest, and she stretched out fully on the bed to do so, she didn't think she could sleep a wink. A million thoughts were whirling in her head all at once: what was her father doing during his first breakfast alone? Was George still asleep? Was Tonks safe being outside by herself? What would her husband be like?

She shuddered at the word: _husband_. She was about to be married to a total stranger.

When she was little her mother had often told her the romantic story of how she had met Arthur Weasley. "I had always thought he was so handsome in his Quidditch robes," Molly said, giggling like a girl while she mended yet another pair of trousers for one of the twins. "One day, after Gryffindor had won a spectacular match against Hufflepuff, I got the courage to actually talk to him..."

And in the part of Ginny that wasn't afraid to like girly things like that, she had dreamt of what it would be like when she met her future husband. He would be devastatingly handsome, and good and kind and brave, and he would be completely devoted to her and she to him. When she had first met Harry, at the train station the year Ron had started at Hogwarts, she had been convinced that he was the one. And now...now he was gone, and with him her dreams of living happily ever after.

She must have dozed off at some point, for she was shaken awake by a frazzled-looking witch with hair that made Hermione's look positively tame. "Hello, hello," she said rapidly, as Ginny grabbed her trunk and stood. "Officer Frieda Mellon, nice to meet you. I don't like being awake this early, so let's go." She turned without further ado and started down the hall; Ginny had to run to keep up.

"Hope you're rested enough," Frieda said, worrying her hands together. "Nasty terrible things happen when you Apparate without resting. Nasty terrible things, I've seen them." She nodded.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Ginny said.

"Here." They turned suddenly at a door that said ILLINOIS on it in faded blue letters, and went in to find a room not unlike the one back in London. The difference here was that the platform was slightly smaller.

"Well, up you go, up you go," said Frieda, standing back, and Ginny got up again. "You're headed just to the next time zone over, to Chicago. Think _Chicago_. And off you go."

Ginny Apparated without waiting another moment, and found herself in yet another monotonous white room.

"Ginerva M. Weasley from London," said a dry voice, and Ginny saw a gray-haired witch with a wart on her forehead holding a clipboard.

"Er, it's Ginevra."

"Right, come along to the lobby. We've got massive backups today, just your luck. It'll be about six hours before you can Apparate to Denver. You'll be hungry, here's some vouchers," and Ginny found her hands full of coupons for free meals from some place called the Butter Churn.

She had never seen so many people in the same place before, not even before the war ended. Wizards of all races and ages milled around in a massive room lined with all kinds of shops and restaurants -- Muggles would call it a _shopping mall_, Ginny remembered. As she walked through she must have heard at least six different languages being spoken, all in angry tones. Hers must not have been the only Apparition delayed by such a long time.

At ten AM local time Ginny was paged over the loudspeakers, and another nice customs official escorted her to the Denver Apparition Point and wished her good luck.

"We're trying to organize something, you know," he said, just as Ginny was about to Apparate away. "We don't want Voldemort coming over here and taking over."

"England thanks you," Ginny said, and in the blink of an eye she was in Denver, Colorado.

After more delays, more annoyingly necessary rest ("you've Apparated thousands of miles today, you need all the resting up you can get!"), more tetchy customs officials and one or two checks of her paperwork, Ginny finally arrived in Seattle at eleven AM, but to her, it felt like seven at night. A rail-thin old man greeted her at the Apparition Point, and rather gallantly offered his hand to help her as she stepped down from the platform.

"You'll be our British traveler, is that right?" he asked kindly.

"Yes," she said, and she showed him all the appropriate paperwork.

"Your host is waiting for you," he said, and he led her out into an open office, where several officials in navy robes sat at desks or rattled off messages to their Dictation Quills. "Lovely young man he is, so charming and thoughtful."

Ginny's heart jolted painfully. This was it. She was about to meet him.

"He wanted only the best for you, private Apparition rooms the whole way."

So that was why she had never seen anyone else Apparating. She had thought it was odd.

"He'll treat you right, I think," said the old wizard, and he smiled comfortingly up at her. "I'm a very good judge of character, you know."

"Thank you," Ginny murmured, and she gave him a tight smile back.

She was surprised when they reached the grand lobby -- the tall windows along one wall showed her that, true to form, it was raining outside -- and the customs official didn't stop. "Wanted to use one of our private waiting rooms," he explained at her unspoken question. "Told us that he thought it would be an emotional meeting, and didn't want everyone to see it."

Ginny had only met one wizard who demanded the best of everything. Only one, and though he had been long thought dead, his body had never been found.

"Here you are, and I hope you enjoy living in Seattle."

Ginny thanked the old wizard and waited until he had shuffled back towards the main lobby, before she reached up with a shaky hand and turned the knob on the door.

There was a window along one wall inside the waiting room, and it offered a gorgeous if damp panorama of the Seattle skyline, with the Space Needle sticking up at one end. He was facing it, hands clasped behind robes that looked like fine wool. Her first impression was that he was a giant -- nearly as tall as Ron had been -- but his body was lean and wiry. He had a commanding air about him, as though he was used to being in total control and liked it. She shut the door behind her with a loud click, and then she noticed his long, ash blond hair.

He turned and smirked at her.

"The Girl Weasel, in the flesh."

"_Malfoy_?"


	4. Three

**Disclaimer: **The plot's mine. The characters and setting are not.

**Chapter Three**

If there had ever been a more tense, stilted, horribly uncomfortable silence Ginny couldn't think of one. Without waiting for her to splutter another angry word, Malfoy had brushed past her and made a jerking motion with his head, signaling for her to follow. Ginny had been too shell-shocked to disobey.

Outside, a sleek black limousine was purring by the pavement in wait, equipped with a smartly uniformed driver, and it was another moment before she realized that this was their mode of transportation. "My God, Malfoy, have you gone Muggle?" she spit out.

The driver held open the rear door for her. "My lady," he said, with an incline of his head.

"Come along, Little Weasel," Malfoy said dryly. He had somehow already gotten in and slid down the seat without her noticing. "Get in. Or shall I ship you back to England?"

Swallowing, Ginny softly thanked the driver and gingerly sat down in the limo, as though one wrong move would unseat her. The driver closed the door and as soon as he was in his own seat they were off. _Two cars rides in less than a day_, Ginny thought wonderingly. _Dad would be so jealous_.

She had expected Malfoy to say something, _anything_, to explain to her why the hell he was there and what was going on, but he failed to please as usual. Instead, with a wave of his wand, he revealed a mini bar in the back of the seat and helped himself to a drink. She didn't know what was more shocking: that he was drinking liquor before noon, or that he was actually alive in the first place.

"Firewhiskey?" he offered.

Ginny blinked. She had never drunk anything so strong, but the thought of getting a little buzzed was sounding better and better to her. "Sure." He poured a second shot and gave it to her.

When she only stared at it for a moment, he laughed. "I didn't poison it." To prove it, he threw back his own shot and raised his eyebrows at her.

But firewhiskey was the last thing on her mind. It all presented itself in a rush: To see him here, dressed in expensive clothes and riding around in a limo, alive and whole and seemingly unaffected by what was going on in their country, was intolerable. Not after she had lost a parent and all of her brothers and friends; not after Voldemort had taken everything that was beautiful and good away from England. How dare Malfoy sit there with that self-righteous smirk on his face. How dare he be alive when Harry and Ron and Hermione were not.

"So you've been hiding, have you?" Ginny said, slamming her shot glass down on the mini bar. It slopped over the sides and onto her fist. "Ran away when the fighting threatened to ruin your complexion and waited for things to settle down?"

"I wouldn't call it hiding," he said, his tone still dry and sardonic. He settled back comfortably into his seat. "Rather, I was sent away because my mother suddenly grew a conscience and decided she didn't want me involved."

"Oh, that's a technicality," Ginny spat.

"It's the truth."

"And then you just _happened_ to see my picture in the Speedy Spouse bulletin --"

"I'll admit, I don't make a habit out of looking for mail order brides," he said with a sneer. "But you just looked so pathetic in that picture of yours --"

"Spare me your insults. They won't affect me."

"-- and I decided I had the right to a little fun." He winked lewdly at her and wrenched the shot glass from her hand. "To you, Weasley." He raised the glass and tossed her drink back.

She was too angry to speak again, and so they subsided into silence. The buildings whirring quietly past the windows barely registered to her, for all she could think about was the horrid situation she'd gotten herself into._ I left England and Dad for Draco bloody Malfoy? Have I finally lost it?_

But her dream -- Everyone had said that good things would come from her choosing to be a mail order bride, and she had thought it was because the wizard who chose her would be the leader of some kind of American order, like the customs official had mentioned. Certainly Draco sodding Malfoy would never be involved in anything remotely like that. He probably had a huge manor out here somewhere, where he lazed around and in general did nothing productive, while his countrymen died by the score thousands of miles away.

She almost missed it when the limo abruptly drove onto a ferry. "Where are we going?" Ginny said.

"Relax, Weasley," Draco said. "I live on an island." He scooted closer to her, and she flinched away from his nearness. "This is the Puget Sound," he said, gesturing to the vast blue body of water around them, more visible through her window than his. "We're taking the ferry to Bainbridge Island, since it's closest, and then we Apparate to my private island."

"It'll be just us?"

He laughed and moved back to where he had been. "There's the servants, of course. You don't think Malfoys actually do their own laundry, do you? Though I suppose if you've been doing chores all your life, you can't really imagine the convenience of servants, can you, Little Weasel?"

"My mum was _not _a servant," Ginny hissed, and she startled herself by the break in her voice. She turned her face away from his, steeling herself for his next biting remark, but he said nothing.

The rain had picked up by the time they reached Bainbridge Island, and it was nearly torrential downpour when they pulled up in front of a general store in the island's tiny retail district. Malfoy plucked a Slytherin green umbrella out from under the seat and opened his door to unfurl it. "Come along, Weasley," he said, and he got out and stood. Ginny scrambled to follow suit.

The limo pulled away as he ushered her to the back of the building, where she saw a low white square on the ground which must have been invisible to Muggles. Malfoy led her to it and stood upon the Point.

"You'll have to grab my arm since you haven't been there," he said. "Do try not to wrinkle my shirt." Loathing him with every ounce of her being, Ginny clutched his arm more tightly than was necessary, and with a quick turn they had Apparated away.

She had expected him to have put some kind of weather ward around his island, so she was surprised when they arrived in a glass porch, off of which the rain was streaming in floods. Malfoy shook the water from his umbrella and performed a silent Drying Charm, then tossed it to the floor and walked towards a low, dark archway. "I haven't got all day, Weasel," his voice floated back over his shoulder.

_Merlin. I'm actually in Draco Malfoy's house. I think I _have_ gone mental. _She went after him.

Now, this she had expected. She had never been to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire nor seen pictures of the interior, but she had heard rumors of French silk curtains, Oriental carpets, Greek sculptures, Italian marble. If the Manor was half as fine as this place, then it must have been positively palatial. Tall columns of white marble, with fine green threads of minerals running through them, shot up towards a cavernous ceiling frescoed with paintings of centaurs and unicorns, magnificent wizards and water nymphs. Malfoy walked over the largest carpet Ginny had ever seen, a vast green Oriental worked with intricate flower and vine designs in silk.

"Couldn't be bothered to move everything from Wiltshire to here," Malfoy said lazily, making a careless gesture at the opulence. "So I just bought all new things. Not too bad, I suppose, though I must say Americans have the worst taste in furnishings. Had to send abroad for most of these things." Ginny couldn't trust herself to keep from saying something truly nasty about him throwing buckets of money away, so she bit the insides of her cheeks and remained wordless.

He led her to the front of the house, where a wide staircase swept down in a curve around a magnificent crystal chandelier. "I'll show you to your room, I suppose," he said.

"You're serious, then," Ginny said, stopped on the first step.

He raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"You really were the wizard who --" She reddened at the thought of Speedy Spouse.

"Why else would I have been at an Apparition Point? My health?"

"I thought --"

"I don't care what you did or didn't think, Weasley, but right now I'm starving and I want to show you to your room so we can eat lunch." He started up the stairs again.

Her room was near the back of the house, an airy suite as well-appointed as the rest of the house. Two sets of French doors opened onto small balconies, affording a view of the Puget Sound that must have been stunning when the weather was good. The bed was draped in blue and gold, with thick downy pillows and bedding that was soft to the touch. Ginny thought of her little bed at Grimmauld Place with its plain white cotton sheets, and couldn't believe this was where she would be sleeping now.

Malfoy stood in the doorway and watched her as she ran her fingers over the bed, touched the night table, gazed at the mirrors and vases and peeked into the private bathroom. "Is everything acceptable?" he said shortly.

Ginny opened her mouth and closed it several times. "It's..."

"Unpack. Pinky will be up presently to show you to the dining room for lunch." He turned on his heel and left.

She could think of nothing else to do, so she pulled out her shrunken luggage and returned it to its normal size. A glance into a cherry wood wardrobe showed that there were hangers already inside, so she set about hanging up her things and putting others into drawers. Her old, hand-me-down clothes and robes looked pitiful when she compared them to the showy extravagance of her room, and with a sinking feeling she realized she'd never hear the end of it once Malfoy saw her in them. Dear Merlin, she'd jumped out of the cooking pot and into the fire.

A sharp _crack_ came from behind her and Ginny turned to see a tiny house elf wearing embroidered napkins about its shoulders and waist, bowing so low its nose nearly touched the ground.

"I is Pinky, mistress," it said in a high voice. If house elves had genders, Ginny would have called this one a female. "Master is making me your lady's maid, and I is pleased to serve."

Everything Hermione had ever said in defense of elfish welfare came flooding back, and Ginny had to suppress a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Pinky," she said. "I'm Ginny."

"Will mistress follow me?" Pinky bowed again and started trotting out of the room, Ginny behind her.

The dining room was slightly separate from the rest of the house, accessible only from a long narrow hallway off the front parlor. Skylights and wide bay windows provided the most light, though a chandelier, only slightly smaller than the one in the foyer, also flickered with candles above them. Malfoy was seated at one end of the long table, reading the newspaper, when she walked in. He barely acknowledged her presence before returning to his article.

"You don't read the _Daily Prophet, _do you?" Ginny said. "Don't you know --"

"The _Daily Prophet _is hardly the only wizarding newspaper in the world, Weasley," Malfoy said. Had he been anyone else he would have been rolling his eyes. "This is the _Mercury Herald_, from Los Angeles. I don't read propaganda trash like the _Prophet_ anymore." As she sat at the other end of the table he seemed to notice what she was wearing. "Well that won't do."

"What are you talking about?"

"Not only do I have to pay for your trip and house you, I have to dress you properly as well? Good heavens, Weasley, did your parents teach you nothing?"

"I'll not have you saying _anything_ about my parents," she cried. "They were good, hardworking people --"

"I suppose they've just loved the war, haven't they?" Malfoy sneered. "With all the killings I'm sure they were able to pick over the belongings of the dead and set themselves up quite nicely."

"I warned you." She whipped out her wand and pointed it at him. "I'm not afraid of you, Malfoy."

"Don't do anything rash," he said calmly, though his eyes were focused on her wand. "I'd rather not be killed before lunch."

Ginny scowled and went through all the hexes and curses she knew, trying to choose the most painful and embarrassing.

"Alecta!" Malfoy shouted, and at once a potbellied little house elf had burst into sight with massive trays of food. Ginny, who had forgotten how long ago her last meal at the Butter Churn had been, dropped her wand at once at the sight and tucked in with alarming speed. _I'll get him later_, she thought, as she worked her way through a delicious slice of shepherd's pie.

"You'll go shopping tomorrow with Pinky," Malfoy said as they ate. "She can take you to Tipper Alley for new robes, since Madam Malkin has a franchise there. And for everyday wear, there's some shopping places downtown I approve of."

"I can't afford a new wardrobe," Ginny said, willing her face not to turn beet red. "I only have --"

He waved his hand dismissively. "I didn't think so. I'll pay for it."

Too late. She felt the heat crawling up her cheeks. "I'll pay you back --"

"No need."

"Why are you doing this? And, bloody hell, _how _did you do it?"

He blinked at her as he sipped at his pumpkin juice. "How? Well, I saw your photograph, wrote a letter to Speedy Spouse, and here you are."

"But why?" Ginny asked again, gripping her fork in her fist. "I'm a Weasley, remember?"

"I already told you," he said, a lusty gleam in his eye, "I was looking for a little fun. Reckoned you could use some too, since Potter can't exactly keep you satisfied anymore, can he?"

Hatred burned like molten metal through her veins until she was seeing red. He couldn't speak of Harry so carelessly like that, not when Harry had given his very life in the hope that the wizarding world could be made peaceful again. If there was any justice at all, Malfoy would be struck down where he sat. "You are pure _evil_," she whispered.

"Mm. I've often been called the spawn of the devil, though I suppose I never really believed them because my father was such a delightful fellow." He took a little bottle out of his pocket -- Ginny suspected it was something alcoholic -- and spiked his own drink.

Ginny tried, tried with all her will to come up with an insult horrible enough to sum up the roiling anger and despair he had stirred in her, all in a matter of barely an hour. This was the life that would lead her to great things? This? With _him_? And look at that prize git, sitting there eating his lunch. Does he realize there are starving people in hiding in England? People whose clothes fall off their backs because they cannot risk buying new ones, for the Death Eaters stalk every street corner? _Does he realize how unworthy he is?_

A sob escaped Ginny's lips, and before he could react she had pushed her chair back from the table and run from the room.

She thought -- though it might have been her imagination -- she heard him calling after her.

She knew very well that it wasn't Thursday yet, but even so she dug through her trunk as soon as she reached her room until she uncovered the two-way mirror, hidden inside a balled-up sock. "Dad," she shouted into it. "Dad, it's Ginny, I need to talk to you." Her voice wavered, and she rubbed her nose on the back of her sleeve.

Arthur's careworn face swam into view. "Gin love? What is it? What's --"

"It's Malfoy, Dad," she said. "Draco bloody Malfoy. He's the one who responded to my picture in the Speedy Spouse bulletin."

"Draco Malfoy?" Arthur's eyebrows shot high up into his forehead. "Merlin, everyone thought he was dead!"

"I know. I wish he was," Ginny said darkly.

"So you're at his house now, in Seattle?"

"Yes. He lives in a huge mansion, of course, on his own private island. Hell, Dad, he's got an entire staff of house elves and everything! He says he's been here for years."

"I'll believe it," Arthur said, sighing. "Look, Ginny, as much as I know you and Ron didn't like him, you're a lot better off with him in Seattle than you are back here."

"Dad --"

"No arguing, Ginny. You agreed to do this no matter what, and I won't have you coming back home because of an old school rivalry."

Ginny made a frustrated sound, and plucked at her lip as she thought. "Can you at least do one thing for me, Dad?"

"Anything, love."

"Check him out? Make sure he's all right?"

"Yes, that much I'll do." Arthur looked away from the mirror a moment, frowning. "God help me, if I've sent you into an even worse situation --"

"Don't worry about me," Ginny insisted. "I can take care of myself. It's you I worry about."

"I've survived a whole day without you so far," he said, smiling sadly. "Made my own tea and everything. Worried that you might have splinched yourself over the Atlantic Ocean. That was the high point of the day, really."

"But you will ask around and see about Malfoy?"

"First thing tomorrow," he promised. "Tonks is coming by with some Muggles she's helping get onto the Continent. I can't wait to talk to them about eckeltricity. I was just looking through my old Muggle science textbook, and some of the things --"

"That's great, Dad," she said, with a homesick laugh. "Don't let me keep you."

"Until I can get some more information, don't tell him anything about the Resistance."

"I won't. Love you."

"Love you too, Gin." He faded from sight.

Ginny flopped down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt marginally better after having talked to Arthur, knowing that he would find everything he could about Malfoy.

She yawned then, as her jet-lag and the effort of Apparating thousands of miles in one day caught up to her. It really was a shame about Malfoy, she thought absently, as she started drifting to sleep. She had never really had a problem with him when they were in school.

_And it isn't fair that a man so handsome on the outside should be so utterly rotten inside_, she thought, and then she was fast asleep.


	5. Four

**Disclaimer: **The plot's mine. The characters and setting are not.

**Chapter Four**

When she woke she didn't remember where she was. Sunlight filtered blue through the filmy curtains, and a hot breakfast tray was on the table beside her bed, emitting the most delicious smells. Ginny sat up and rubbed her eyes and stretched. Day One of living in Malfoy's house had begun.

After she had showered and dressed and started picking at the tray, Pinky appeared carrying a new set of cobalt robes. "Master is wanting you to wear these when we goes shopping today, mistress," she said, laying them out on Ginny's trunk.

Despite herself, Ginny reached out and touched them. The color was gorgeous, the weight of the fine wool even and perfect for early spring. _But I can't wear these, Malfoy bought them_, she thought, even as she let Pinky help her into them. They felt absolutely heavenly against her skin, and she grudgingly admitted to herself that he had good taste.

"Mistress will follow Pinky," the little house elf said, and Ginny went with her down to the Apparition Point she and Malfoy had used the other day. Today the sun was visible through a heavy cloud cover that couldn't make up its mind to block or allow the sunshine. Boats of pleasure and ferries dotted the cerulean Sound. The scene was so calm and peaceful it was difficult to imagine the constant terror and threat of death facing those in England.

They went first to Tipper Alley, which so strongly reminded her of the now-mostly gutted Diagon Alley that Ginny's eyes burned, especially when Pinky led her to Alouicia's Madam Malkin's. The sign outside was exactly the same, and the store inside was laid out just like the old store in London, down to the little bird that trilled when they walked in the door.

A middle-aged woman in bottle green robes bustled out from the back to greet them. "Hello there," she said warmly, "how can I help you?"

Ginny opened her mouth to say something vague about new clothes, but Pinky surprised her by pulling a list out from a tuck in her napkin. "Master is making a list for mistress," she said to Alouicia, handing it to her. "He is saying money is not important."

Ginny's eyes bugged at that, and Alouicia was equally surprised. "Well," the older witch said, taking the list and going through it quickly. "I guess that's a good thing about the money, because your master's gonna spend a pretty penny on this one set of dress robes alone."

"Dress robes?" Ginny said. "Why do I need --"

"Master is having a party!" Pinky squeaked, but then she covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh no! Pinky must not say a word!"

"Don't punish yourself, that's an order!" Ginny said quickly, just as Pinky was about to start banging her head against the front counter. She'd heard enough about Dobby from Harry to hate the thought of the poor elves hurting themselves on purpose.

But now she was confused, and while Alouicia measured her for set after set of robes, for formal occasions and everyday wear, Ginny pondered Pinky's small clue. A party? What on earth for? Malfoy hardly seemed the social type, and the thought of people actually being friends with him of their own free will was impossible to believe. That made her snort in amusement, but then she winced from being stuck by a pin in her sleeve.

After the robe shop, and after Pinky had sent all of Ginny's new robes back to Malfoy's island mansion, they went on to Muggle Seattle, to a strip of shops that must have been expensive enough to warrant Malfoy's attention. Ginny thought Pinky would make herself scarce, but was surprised when the elf followed her in the Apparition Point.

"But won't the Muggles see you?" Ginny said.

"Muggles is not seeing what they is not wanting to see, mistress," Pinky said slyly. Sure enough, no one spared the two of them a second look, and Ginny started breathing easier.

They went to stores she had never heard of, some with strange names that she passed off as the Muggles trying to sound sophisticated. None of them made sense anyway; why couldn't Muggles give their stores names that said just what they were selling? Again, Pinky pulled a list out from her napkin, and Ginny was astonished to see such personal things as lingerie and underwear written in Malfoy's familiar script.

"He can't be serious," she muttered, her face turning even redder as she read detailed descriptions of each item. "I'm not wearing black satin _anything_."

But still, she wasn't going to say no to linen trousers and cashmere sweaters, silk shirts and a waterproof raincoat and a million other things she didn't realize she needed until she had them on. She wondered how she was supposed to pay for all of this, but when she brought up the subject to the woman that was helping them, she was told not to worry about a thing.

"Mr. Malfoy called us this morning and told us you were coming, and to let you have whatever you wanted," she said, smiling. "He's one of our best customers, he comes in all the time."

"Oh," Ginny said. She had always wondered what it would be like to be rich, but she'd never imagined how nice it was. "He wants me to get, er, some black satin lingerie as well."

"Well, I can show you some of our --"

"I just want some white cotton bras and panties, if you've got them," Ginny said. "Nothing fancy for me."

Once all of those packages had been sent by Pinky back to the mansion they stopped for lunch at a small outdoor cafe. The sun had decided to really come out now, and Ginny splurged and bought a pair of sunglasses so she wouldn't have to squint.

She was still very much jet-lagged and off-schedule, so when Pinky said she had to buy a few more things Ginny told her to continue on by herself. "Oh yes, mistress mustn't see what Pinky is buying," the elf agreed, nodding her head. "Master is not wanting mistress to know what he is planning."

A cold shiver of suspicion went down Ginny's back. "What is he planning, Pinky?" But the elf wouldn't say, and so Ginny Apparated back to the mansion and fell into her bed fully-clothed to take a nap.

When she woke the sun was much farther along its daily path, nearly halfway under the Puget Sound when Ginny looked out the window. She yawned and ran her fingers through her hair, feeling relaxed and alert, though knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep much that night.

Pinky Apparated into the room moments later. "Mistress is awake!" she cried, as though nothing else pleased her more.

"Er, hello Pinky."

"Come now, mistress, we is getting you ready for dinner tonight, oh yes." The little elf scampered into the bathroom and Ginny heard the water start filling the tub and the most wonderful smell of roses issued out.

Whatever was happening that night must have been a truly important event, for Pinky made Ginny use what seemed like a hundred different oils and perfumed soaps on her skin and in her hair. When she stepped out and toweled herself off, she smelled like she had been rolling around in a rose garden for hours. Clapping her hands with glee, Pinky then helped Ginny into one of the sets of dress robes they'd bought that morning: they were of watered silk, in a rich shade of green, trimmed with gold piping. It was off-the-shoulder, with wide bell sleeves and a full skirt that trailed behind her, both embellished with embroidery in gold thread. Thinking herself done, Ginny made for the door, but Pinky pushed her back into the room and started doing her hair next, gathering it into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and allowing some wavy tendrils to snake down and around her shoulders. Then makeup: green eyeshadow and dark mascara, a hint of blush for her too-pale cheeks, and a rosy color for her lips.

Ginny gazed into the full-length mirror that stood by her bed, and barely recognized the beautiful young witch she saw. "Oh mistress!" Pinky sighed behind her. "You is looking so lovely!"

"Now will you tell me what is going on tonight?" Ginny said.

"Master is having friends over for dinner," Pinky said vaguely, and she opened the bedroom door. "He is wanting you to meet all of them."

"And I suppose if I had turned up in my own clothes I would have embarrassed him," Ginny muttered.

"Master is liking to have everything look lovely," was all Pinky would say.

She made her way downstairs carefully, since she wasn't used to wearing heeled shoes, and found Malfoy pacing the front hall impatiently. She hadn't seen him since their horrible lunch the day before, which was all too recent for Ginny. Tonight he was wearing tailored silver gray dress robes, his long hair tied back in a leather thong. "Finally," he said, taking her arm and half-dragging her into the room at the right of the entrance hall; the doors had been closed yesterday, but now were open to reveal a vast ballroom straight from a fairy tale. "My guests will be arriving soon."

"Were you actually going to tell me about this little party or just spring it on me?" Ginny said.

"The plans were already in the works when you arrived," he said, sounding bored. "Look, can you at least be polite to my friends tonight? Some of them would be highly insulted by your attitude, and I can't afford to make enemies."

"Surprisingly, I _can_ mind my manners," Ginny said, as they heard the first _pop_s coming from the private Apparition Point. "I suppose you simply bring out the worst in me."

"We have that in common," he muttered, and then they did not speak to one another for the next three hours.

When Pinky had said he was having a few friends over Ginny had thought she meant two or three, but by the time Malfoy remarked that "that was the last of them," over two hundred finely-dressed guests from America's wizarding aristocracy had arrived and were picking over the buffet tables. The hum of low conversation buzzed in her ears, supported by the music of the string quartet playing on a platform in the corner.

She was introduced to every single person there, and they all gave her pitying looks when they heard her British accent. It embarrassed her like it never had before, being from England; when they asked none-too-delicately if she knew anyone that had died, Ginny refrained from saying anything concrete. "Too many have lost their lives," she would say, and after the twentieth or thirtieth time Malfoy added, "But many, like Miss Weasley here, are still fighting with everything they've got."

"Why, you're enchanting, my dear!" said one matronly woman Malfoy introduced as Maida Winkler. "Draco, how did you ever meet such a lovely young witch as this one?"

"We attended Hogwarts together," Malfoy said. "She was a year behind me." _And he nearly killed my brother and was the mortal enemy of my boyfriend_, Ginny mentally added.

"Hang on to this one, Draco," Maida said with a wink. "She's much better than those other witches I've seen you with. It was so nice to meet you, Miss Weasley."

"And you, Mrs. Winkler."

Later, once everyone had arrived and was eating, Malfoy took her arm again and led her to the buffet tables to get their own food. Ginny hadn't eaten much since she'd arrived in Seattle, for she found the American food unbearably rich after two years of the meanest, most basic staples her father could send for. But when she mentioned it to Malfoy, he waved her words away with his hand.

"I still can't stand the food, and I've been here almost five years," he said. "I cheat and import tons from Europe, and have my house elves prepare it the same way they did in England." And he showed her a table that was almost entirely British food: there was bubble and squeak, blood pudding, shepherd's pie -- everything Ginny could ask for.

What struck her, while she settled in a chair by the wall to eat, was how strangely Malfoy was acting. He took a seat beside her once he'd fixed his own dinner plate, and she watched him from the corners of her eyes. Yesterday he had been just as she remembered him from school: arrogant, superior, uncaring, vicious in his insults and crass to the extreme. Tonight, however, he was courteous, almost charming, and being an attentive host to his guests. In the nearly six years they had gone to school together she had never seen him smile, not like this, when his whole face softened and he actually looked, dare she think it, even more handsome than normal. This new Malfoy was so incomparable to the one she had known that she wondered which was the real one.

_The nasty one, of course_, she thought instantly. _Malfoy is a rich spoilt brat used to having his way, but he can't very well act like that when he's supposed to be hosting a party. It's all for show. He probably wants something that he can't just buy from them. But what?_

The whole night confused her. Malfoy left her side after a plump witch teased him about hiding in the corner, and went and danced with her with a few other couples. Ginny watched as they moved together in unison, and realized that he was a fantastic dancer. Where had he learned something as ordinary as a waltz? The idea of dancing lessons being administered between Death Eater training and learning Dark curses just didn't fit. But, it seemed, few things seemed to fit anymore.

It had been so easy to hate him when he was being mean. At Hogwarts Ron and Harry had ranted on and on about how cruel and vicious he was, how he always managed to avoid getting in trouble while allowing others to take on his punishments. And yesterday, when he had mocked her poverty and made crude suggestions about his reasons for bringing her to America, the hatred had risen again as though it had always been there.

She almost forgot that she had pitied him once, briefly, in the safety and secrecy of her own heart. He had disappeared into thin air a few months into the fighting, not long before George fell asleep. The rumors had been that he had displeased Voldemort by not killing Dumbledore, and Lucius Malfoy himself had tortured him and hidden him away deep in some dungeon to rot. Ginny had pitied him because she could afford to then, because that was before any of her brothers were dead and she had lost everything else.

And then his dancing partner had returned with him to Ginny, face flushed and smiling, and said, "Draco honey, how dare you leave this lovely witch here all by herself? What kind of date are you anyway?"

"Not a very good one, it seems," he said, smiling, and Ginny saw that he had charmed the woman down to the nails on her stubby fingers. He bent over her hand and kissed it, causing the older woman to titter like a girl. "It's been a pleasure dancing with you, Madam Kettering."

"Now I want to see you and Miss Weasley out there for the very next dance," she said, "or I will be very upset with you!" With a grin to soften her words, she moved on to the buffet table.

He sat beside Ginny again and made no move to do as Madam Kettering had insisted, and his stillness drove her mad. Why wasn't he taunting her, or acting strangely like he had been all night? Seeking something to do, she blurted out, "How do you know all these people?"

"Louisa Kettering is a forceful political lobbyist," he said, "and her husband Justinian is the herbology instructor at Thane Academy -- the American West Coast equivalent, if you will, of Hogwarts."

"But how --"

He smirked at her, and now she was on slightly more familiar ground. "You didn't expect me to stay holed up here all the time? Count my money and plan evil plots? Surely you have more imagination than that, Weasley."

"All these people think you're _nice_," Ginny said, frowning. "Forgive me if I can't really wrap my head around that one."

"I _am_ nice," he said, his smirk widening. "Maybe you just choose not to see it."

"And maybe Voldemort will surrender tomorrow." She was satisfied to see that the name still made him shiver a little. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," she said, low enough that only he could hear her.

He met her eyes, and she was shocked to see something unfamiliar there -- not loathing like she expected, nor disgust or fury. Before she knew quite what to call it he had grabbed her hand and dragged her to her feet. "There are appearances to keep up," he said. "I suggest we keep them."

The last time Ginny had danced formally had been at the Yule Ball over seven years ago, and it had been all she could do to keep Neville from stepping on her toes. She was rusty on the steps, she would admit that much, but when Malfoy put his arm around her and led her in the next dance she felt as though she had never forgotten how.

She couldn't meet his eyes. She stared at his right ear, or his shoulder, but never those eyes that drilled through her, seemingly able to draw out her insecurities and fears. His touch at her waist was light, the hand holding hers warm. _He should be cold_, she thought. _Cold as the evil in his heart._

"You're very good, Weasley." She jumped. Without her noticing he had leaned in and put his lips near her ear. They were so close that her breasts were nearly brushing his chest.

"Surprised, are you?" she murmured back.

"All the time."

She wasn't sure what to make of that, so she was silent.

"I want you to know something."

Why was his proximity affecting her like this? True, Ginny hadn't been romantically involved with any man since Harry, but was her body so desperate it was lusting after _Malfoy_ of all people?

"I want you to know that I have no intention of marrying you," he said, his tone aloof and arrogant again. "I know that's what you intended, but I really couldn't care less about getting married."

"Then why did you send for me?"

He moved away from her, sneer firmly in place. "Honestly, Weasley?" Malfoy said. "Because I felt sorry for you."

Ginny's face heated, and she couldn't stand the thought of touching him anymore. Why had she ever thought, even for a moment, that he was capable of real kindness? Why had she ever thought he was attractive? She pulled away from him as quickly as she could, just as the string quartet played the last chord of their piece.

"Then who do they think I am?" she asked him abruptly. "What did you tell your friends?"

"I said you were a distant cousin," he said, "which, I believe, is actually true." He took her hand and kissed it, as he had kissed Madam Kettering's. Ginny stalked off and didn't see him for the rest of the night.


	6. Five

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. The characters and some setting are not.

**Chapter Five**

For the next two months Ginny was in a constant state of confusion. Malfoy was always going in and out of the mansion for one reason or another, mostly for meetings with the bankers who were helping to oversee his vast fortune and investments, but the few times she did see him he was downright mysterious. She never knew beforehand if he would be Nice Malfoy, the one who was sarcastic but bearable, or Evil Malfoy, the one that insulted her with every other sentence he uttered. One morning she came down for breakfast after not having seen him for several days, to find him seated at the table with tea and toast. He immediately stood at her entrance, startling her.

"Um..." _Nice, then_, she thought.

"Good morning, Weasley," he said. The use of her last name was his only concession to the old Malfoy. "What will you have?"

She sat down, and saw that he didn't sit again until she was situated comfortably. "Er, tea would be lovely."

"Anything else?"

"Hot oatmeal with banana?" He raised his eyebrows at the house elf standing in the corner -- she had not even noticed it there -- and with a scraping bow Alecta had Apparated into the kitchen for Ginny's breakfast.

"Pinky tells me you haven't been doing much while I'm gone," he said, folding the _Mercury Herald_ neatly and pushing it to the side.

"I didn't realize there was something I should be doing."

"What I meant was you're not a prisoner here," he said, gazing at her steadily. "I saw you got along well with Rose Quindlen at the party last week; you could invite her over for tea today."

Alecta arrived with Ginny's breakfast, so instead of answering she busied herself spooning honey into her tea and stirring it. "She was all right, I suppose," Ginny said noncommittally.

"Or go shopping. There's plenty of shops in Tipper Alley."

"I told you before, I don't have a whole lot of money."

"And I told _you_ before, I'll pay for it." They stared at each other in a silent battle of wills, until Ginny looked away and started cutting up her banana into her oatmeal.

It hit her like a Stunning Spell: he was only being nice to try and get her out of the way. _He's doing something he doesn't want me to see_, Ginny thought, once Malfoy had given up conversing and was reading his paper again. _I'll bet he's not really talking with bankers but with someone else entirely. Or maybe it's here: he doesn't want me poking around his mansion because something is hidden here._

Sure enough, when she walked past a closed door later in the day, she could hear his voice as he spoke to someone. Ginny stopped and, as lightly as she could, tiptoed up to the door and pressed her ear against the smooth wood.

"...the next shipment?" Malfoy's voice was almost too low to hear.

Whoever he was talking to responded. It must have been a Floo call, Ginny reasoned.

Malfoy muttered a colorful curse. "You told me ...best security in Britain --"

"Shit happens, Draco."

"Not to me. Damnit Jeffords." It sounded like he had just slammed his fist against something. "Right, I was just talking to Melvin Winkler...more interest from Voldemort..."

Ginny moved away, her heart pounding a little faster than usual. Shipments. Security. Voldemort. Oh God. She turned and sped to the little parlor she had found a few days ago, desperate to remember everything she had just heard. If she pretended not to know what was going on, maybe Malfoy would slip up somewhere and she could catch him doing whatever it was he was up to. She was sure that these shipments had to be of something illegal.

And then there had been the even stranger incident a month later, when Ginny decided it was hot enough to venture a swim in the small, shallow bay in front of the mansion. She'd bought a new bathing suit during their earlier shopping spree, so she pulled it on, grabbed a bath towel and sandals, and headed out.

It was a gorgeous day that day, with hardly a cloud in the sky and just enough wind to keep the heat from being unbearable. She pulled out her wand and cast a quick Sun Protection Charm on her pale skin, then set it down beside her towel and sandals and waded out into the bay. Taking a deep breath, she dove into the crystal clear water.

How long had it been since she had last gone swimming? As she lazily backstroked the width of the bay she thought back to summers at the Burrow, the pond out in the fields where her brothers had taught her to swim. Bathing suits were the one thing that couldn't be handed down from her brothers, so Molly had bought her a brand new pink one-piece that had garnered hours of teasing from Fred and George. Percy had been content to act as lifeguard, his nose buried in _So You Think You're Cut Out for a Government Job_, and Ron had delighted in cannonballing into the pond as often as he could, splashing them all in their faces. Then there had been that very last summer, the summer Bill and Fleur were married, when she and Harry and Ron had taken turns dipping underwater and pinching the backs of Fleur's knees until the French witch was convinced there were grindylows lurking in the water.

Her heart ached thinking of all of them, even four years removed. She remembered how Hermione had had to stifle her giggles into her fist at the confounded look on Fleur's face, and how Bill had looked ready to strangle the twins, certain that they were the real culprits. And how Harry had kept giving her, Ginny, soft looks all through the wedding ceremony, and danced with her at the party in his endearingly clumsy way, and how they had stood under the giant willow tree at sunset while the fireflies made his green eyes shine like emeralds and they had kissed and it hadn't been clumsy at all.

Thinking of Harry put her in a good mood, as she remembered fondly all of their stolen moments together. Ten minutes later Ginny started shivering and decided she was done swimming for the day. She swam towards the shore where her towel and wand were and stepped dripping out of the water.

"Weasley?"

She looked up and saw Malfoy there, coming down the path that led from the house. He seemed surprised to see her at first, but then his eyes went somewhere below her face and she realized she was standing in front of him in nothing but her skimpy black two-piece, her wet hair plastered to her neck and shoulders. Shuddering, and not because she was cold, she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her, hiding her body from view.

"I fancied a swim," she said, lifting her chin. She would _not _let him get her bent out of shape. "That's allowed, isn't it?"

"I hadn't --" His voice cracked and he coughed to cover it. He frowned at her, as though she was at fault somehow. "Muggles from the mainland sometimes sneak over here to swim, and I thought you were one of them. I don't allow trespassers."

"Oh, so you say," she said, slipping her feet into her sandals and picking up her wand. "I think you just wanted to see me in my bikini."

"I --"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're human," she teased, and she patted his shoulder as she walked past him.

He grabbed her hand and spun her around so they were facing one another. "Weasley --"

"Please, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes. "My name is Ginny, remember? Weasley is what you called Ron." He was gazing directly at her, so he must have seen it the moment her face darkened, and the tears bloomed in her eyes. She couldn't stand showing her pain in front of him. "I bet you wish you had been the one to kill him, right?" she said, trying to hide her grief. "Sorry your dad got to him first?"

He let go of her hand by pushing it away. "Don't presume to know _anything_ about me, Weasley," he hissed, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Oh no? So you deny that you hated Ron when you were at Hogwarts? You were the best of mates, is that right?"

"You know what your problem is?" Malfoy said. "All you Gryffindors, you only see things in black and white, good and evil. If I didn't hate Weasley then I _must_ have been chummy with him, that's what you're saying. Where's the room for everything in between?"

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Ginny spat, stepping away. "You can't afford to see in shades of gray when people are dying, Malfoy. There is no gradual change from life to death, it's one or the other."

He paused, and his breathing changed subtly. "I wasn't talking about life and death."

Always, it came back to the war. Even when surrounded by such beauty and comfort, she could think of nothing else. And she could not explain to someone who hadn't been there how consuming it was, how life and death was everything when there was nothing else. So she walked away.

Malfoy, however, refused to let it drop. "It's funny you, of all people, should talk about there being no gradient between life and death."

"And why is that?" Ginny huffed, as she marched back up the path to the house.

"George."

She stopped so quickly he ran into her; when she spun around she had to take a step back. "How do you know about George? Who told you? What do you know?"

"I had the _Daily Prophet_ sent to me for the first six months I was here," he said, "right until Rodolfus Lestrange and his mates took over as staff. I read about a George Weasley being hit with a strange curse no one could identify, and how he was in the Permanent Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's."

"Some kind of Sleeping Charm or curse," she mumbled.

"Hephaestus Somner liked that kind of thing," Malfoy said, almost thoughtfully. He turned and gazed out at the Sound, hands on his hips. He made a striking picture, his long hair blowing in the wind. "He liked the idea of someone sleeping for years and years, only to wake and find their entire world changed."

Ginny's eyes widened. They had never been able to find out who had cast the curse. "Does -- does that mean George will wake up?"

"I don't doubt it," he said, turning back to her.

"But it's already been four years --"

"He's not dead," Malfoy said, and he folded his arms in front of his chest, giving her a triumphant look. "He's asleep. Hovering between life and death."

She recalled then what Fred had said in her dream: _not quite dead, but not really alive._ She couldn't comprehend being neither dead nor alive, not after Healer Cassiopeia had tried and tried to explain it to her, and now she realized what Malfoy had said was true: there were no black and white situations. There were good people, like Harry and her family, and evil ones like Voldemort, but there were also the Mundungus Fletchers and Draco Malfoys of the world that looked out for themselves and waited to see who won.

"So Weasley is dead, then," he said flatly. "Ron, that is."

"They all are," she said. She pulled her towel closer and continued on to the house.

What bothered her the most about the way he acted was that she didn't know how to treat him. When he said something nasty -- which happened far less often than it had at Hogwarts -- she could say something nasty back, but then not five minutes later he would do something like ask if her bedroom was comfortable enough, or if she wanted to see his library.

"What?"

"You looked bored, so I thought you might want a book to read."

"I doubt you have the kinds of books I like to read," Ginny said dryly, and she returned to leafing through a months-old issue of _The Well-Dressed Wizard_, a high-end clothing catalogue.

"What kinds of books do you like to read?"

"Not ones that detail how to disembowel your enemies in three simple steps."

His eyebrow quirked and he seemed to be suppressing a smile. "Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater, eh?"

"I'm merely extrapolating past observations onto present conditions."

He startled her then by walking over and rolling up his sleeve. "I wasn't one," he said. Helpless to look away, she stared at the smooth, unmarred expanse of his ivory skin. "I didn't take the Mark. Just thought you should know that."

She looked up at him. "But Harry said --"

"How would Potter know? He wasn't there when the Dark Lord decided I was unworthy, after I failed to kill Dumbledore, was he?"

Ginny stood defiantly. "Because only Death Eaters ever call him the Dark Lord, and sometimes you don't need a visible sign of membership to belong to something." She picked up her catalogue and took it into another room.

After she had been there for eight weeks, Ginny found herself falling in love with the mansion. She discovered a greenhouse hidden back amongst the trees behind his property, and after asking the house elves that tended to it she started helping them with their potting and watering of the plants. It had everything a witch or wizard would need: some of the more common potions ingredients, especially those used in health potions, plants with healing properties by themselves, and a vast array of the most beautiful flowers Ginny had ever seen. This must have been the source of the fresh lilies and narcissus Malfoy insisted on having in the dining room and front hall every day.

And as the days turned gradually to summer, Ginny went swimming more and more often in the bay she had claimed as her own. Malfoy didn't come down to the shore as he had that one day, but there were times when she thought she could see him in the windows of the house, staring down at her. A casual search through the mansion one day also yielded a brand new, untouched piano in a room filled with music books. Ginny had no idea how to play, nor could she read music, but she nevertheless spent hours picking out her mother's favorite Celestina Warbeck songs, note by note, while she softly sang the words.

It was while she was at the piano one day that he approached her. "So you like music, do you?" he asked, leaning in the open door frame.

Ginny shrugged and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. "As much as anyone else, I suppose." When he said nothing more, she returned to playing "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love," humming along under her breath.

"Have you ever been to the theater?"

He had moved into the room now, and was standing with his feet apart, hands in the pockets of his tailored gray trousers. He looked imposing like that, and startlingly like his father.

"Poor, remember?" Ginny said dryly. "We never even ate at restaurants."

"Then that's a no."

"A big no."

"Would you like to?"

Her fingers paused just above the keys. _Merlin_, she thought_, is he asking me out on a date?_

"There's an excellent theater company here in Seattle," he said, as though there was nothing wrong with what he was doing. "My friend Will Starling tells me that currently they're showing _Camelot_, a musical. If you'd like I can get us tickets."

She turned on the piano bench and gazed at him warily. "What's in it for you?" Ginny asked.

"I'm going mad doing business all the time," he said airily. "I want to get out for awhile."

If she was honest, Ginny was eager to get out too. She hadn't left his manor since going shopping with Pinky on her second day there. "So...when would we go?"

He smirked. "Is that a yes, Weasley?"

"Let me check my busy schedule and get back to you," she shot back.

"Tomorrow evening. Dinner first, then the show, then drinks afterwards." He turned on his heel to leave, and Ginny shifted back into her former place on the piano bench. "Weasley?"

"Malfoy?"

He stuck his head back into the room. "Wear that Muggle evening dress I had you get, since we'll be downtown."

Ginny opened her mouth to ask him which one, since he had put six on the list he had written up, but he was already gone.

She dreamt of Harry that night, for the first time since she had decided to become a mail order bride. They were standing up in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, though the Tower had fallen during the battle there. A sky full of stars twinkled above them, and Harry took her hand in his.

"We're always with you, Gin," he said seriously. "You're never alone."

"Watch over George, will you?" she said. "I worry about him."

He grinned. "Fred is with him all the time," he said. "Not even death can separate them."

"And us?"

His grin faded, and he put his arms around her and held her close. "We're not meant to be, Gin," he said. "You have to move on."

"What am I meant to do?"

"Be happy," he said. "Just promise me you'll be happy."

Ginny nodded into his chest, clinging to his solid form with all her strength, and then he and the Tower had become one with the darkness under her eyelids.


	7. Six

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. The characters and some setting are not.

**Chapter Six**

She was running late, and she knew Malfoy would snap at her for it.

"Time, Pinky?" she said, shoving her feet into navy high heels.

"Almost five, mistress! Hurry!" Pinky shrieked.

Ginny grabbed the matching clutch bag that went with her dress -- she had stowed her wand inside, just in case -- and ran breathlessly down to the front hall. Malfoy was there, his back to her, checking his watch.

"I'm here," she gasped, "let's go."

"It's about..." The words died on his lips as he turned to look at her. Ginny's slightly curly hair was piled elegantly atop her head, decorated with iridescent dragonfly clips, and the Muggle evening dress she had chosen was a floor length navy blue gown, with narrow straps and a full skirt. She fussed with the skirt, smoothing it down repeatedly over her hips, and wondered where his acidic wit had gone.

She wasn't the only one dressed to kill, she realized, taking in his tailored tuxedo. His vest and tie were made of pearly gray brocade that forced attention to his unusual eyes, and his hair was pulled back neatly in its customary leather thong. He looked... Ginny swallowed. Incredible. His features, which had been so sharp and pointed in his Hogwarts days, now suited him much better as a man. For the first time since he had proposed their outing, she felt a small thread of nervousness, and more than a little excitement.

"It's chilly out," he spat finally, "and I'm not going to give you my coat if you get cold."

Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand. All he had to do was open his mouth, and the illusion was shattered. With a flick of her wrist she summoned the matching wrap, and a few seconds later it flew down the stairs and into her waiting hands.

They Apparated from the glass porch to the alley on Bainbridge Island, where Malfoy's driver and limo awaited them. While Ginny settled herself in her seat, trying not to wrinkle her dress, he gave detailed directions to the driver, who nodded and started on his way.

Malfoy leaned back comfortably into the seat. "We're meeting the Ketterings at the restaurant," he said, "then going on to the show and drinks together."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Oh. I thought we'd be alone."

He tilted his head to the side. "Did you?"

"Don't get any ideas, Malfoy. I certainly didn't think that because I long for your company."

"Are you so sure of that?" he said, and Ginny frowned and didn't bothering answering. She really wasn't all that sure.

Louise and Justinian Kettering were already at their reserved table when they arrived. The restaurant was dark and intimate, lit by ornate colored lamps, with tables tucked back into private nooks and a low hum of conversation sounding throughout. Malfoy greeted the Ketterings cordially, even bowing to kiss Madam Kettering's hand, and helped Ginny into her seat as though they did this every day.

"It's beautiful here," Ginny said, after they ordered appetizers. "Is this place new?"

Malfoy hid a grin and Madam Kettering laughed. "Oh, you Brits. No, this place has been around almost thirty years, is it, Justin? The only reason it seems so new is because everything in the wizarding parts of Britain is centuries old."

"The table is warded," Malfoy said, after Ginny blinked at Madam Kettering's free speech. "_Muffliato_, I believe, sir?"

"Yes," Mr. Kettering said, nodding his gray head. "We've been being careful ever since Harry Potter died. Don't want that evil bastard getting us over here."

Hearing his name like that, unannounced and unexpected, was like being doused with a bucket of ice water. _Dear Merlin. Harry. _Ginny shuddered so violently that she nearly dropped her wine glass; only Malfoy's quick reflexes saved her dress.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, trying not to think about Malfoy touching her hand. "I'm not usually so -- "

"Miss Weasley knew Harry Potter personally," he explained to the Ketterings. "They were..." -- his lip curled -- "dating, before his untimely death."

"Oh, you poor dear," Madam Kettering exclaimed. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It was three years ago," Ginny said tightly. "I've moved on, or so I thought."

"We never forget the dead," Kettering said sagely. "Our boy John went overseas to join in the fighting, and he was killed at the Ministry of Magic Massacre."

"So was my brother Percy," Ginny said.

"It never gets easier," he said with a sigh. "Just further back in the past."

Her mood over dinner was subsequently darker, and Ginny ate little of her entree. The Ketterings chatted with Malfoy about a hundred different things, from what was happening at the Thane Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry to what Madam Kettering was lobbying in the local state government. Ginny was surprised to hear that Malfoy himself was actively appealing the Washington state government.

"I didn't realize you were an American citizen now," she said to him. He only met her eyes and sat there, wordless.

"What have you been hiding from your cousin?" Madam Kettering tutted. "It's not official yet, of course, but Draco just began the process at the beginning of this year. He'll be sworn in for real in six months."

"But -- but why?" Ginny stuttered, still looking at Malfoy. "England is our home, no matter what some crazy Dark wizard does to it. I'm still an English citizen."

"I have no plans to return to England," Malfoy said, "ever."

"Malfoy Manor --"

"Is being used, I assume, as a Death Eater headquarters."

"Your fortune --"

"Is in several Swiss wizarding banks and invested in American companies."

"What about your family? Surely your mum --"

"Is dead, and I don't want to discuss it here," Malfoy said, cutting into his meal with more force than was required.

Ginny bit her lip at this new piece of information. She'd had no idea Narcissa Malfoy was dead. For a moment she wondered how she had never heard about it, then assumed it must have been reported in the _Daily Prophet_. The Ketterings took their little spat in stride and graciously did not continue it or bring it up again through the evening.

Ginny had never been to see a Muggle musical before, nor any kind of stage show, and the closest thing she had to the experience was hearing about when Fred and George had gotten tickets to the Weird Sisters when they played Blackburn. This, however, was nothing like that. Malfoy had gotten them a private box with a perfect view, and when the curtain went up Ginny sat back and thoroughly enjoyed herself.

"Silly Muggles," Kettering said fondly, as they sat at a late-night cocktail lounge afterwards, nursing nightcaps. "They don't think the Arthurian legend is true in the slightest."

"And of course, they made Morgan le Fey out to be evil," Madam Kettering complained, "_just _because she was a witch. They forget she was a great Healer as well."

"I liked it," Ginny said stubbornly. "I thought the music was excellent and the acting just as good."

"Oh, you would, you blood traitor," Malfoy said into his snifter of brandy. He'd been in a foul mood ever since dinner.

There. The Ketterings couldn't pretend they hadn't heard him say something awful like that? They had to know what a nasty git Malfoy was now! But instead of looking insulted the Ketterings chuckled at his outburst. "Draco darling," Madam Kettering said, patting his arm. "The things you come out with, I'll never guess how your mind works." Ginny thought her eyes would fall out from staring.

The Ketterings finally bid their farewells in the alley behind the lounge, and invited Malfoy and Ginny to come visit whenever they wanted. Then, with one last adieu, the older couple had Apparated back to their own home.

The return trip to Malfoy's island was quiet, uncomfortably so. Ginny kept thinking about Narcissa Malfoy. She knew, from having heard Harry talk ceaselessly about the boy he hated most, that the blonde witch had been utterly devoted to her only son, sending him chocolates and other treats from home while he was at Hogwarts. By the dark look he had worn on his face all evening, Malfoy must have missed her attentions; maybe he had even loved her. _By Merlin, he might actually have a heart after all_, Ginny thought.

The limo was on the ferry to Bainbridge Island by the time she spoke. "My mum died too," she said softly.

Malfoy continued to stare out the window.

"It was during the final battle, at Godric's Hollow, right by where the Potters had lived," she went on. She had never told anyone else about Molly's death. "She was -- with Fred, since he was the only one of my brothers still alive, and she was protecting him. She was a very strong witch, my mum, she could cast near impenetrable protection spells. But she was distracted, and Mulciber got through and hexed Fred." Ginny stared straight ahead, even though Malfoy had now turned to look at her. "Mum screamed and bent over him, trying to reverse it, but MacNair sent the -- the Killing Curse at her. And she died." Ginny's eyes were dry as she met Malfoy's. "So remember that you're not the only one who's lost a parent."

He looked away again, and it was silent in the limo as the driver pulled up to the general store. It wasn't until they had Apparated back to the mansion, and Ginny had started towards the stairs, that he spoke a word.

"Lucius killed her." His voice was soft, almost indistinguishable from the sound of the wind singing through the trees. She turned and waited for him to go on. Malfoy's face was twisted with discomfort, and he ran a hand through his long hair. "My mum was never involved in any of the Death Eater business, pretending to ignore it, and Lucius never made her join. She knew he risked death by being a Death Eater, but she decided the choice was his. When the Dark -- when _Voldemort_ wanted me to join as well --" there was a thin sheen of sweat on his face, as though saying the name required a physical effort "-- she put her foot down. I was her only son, and she wasn't going to let me go get myself killed. She bundled me up and shipped me off to this place, which is heavily warded and Unplottable, where I've been ever since." He waved a hand at the mansion. "Lucius found out and was livid, or so I've heard from the reports. He attacked and killed her."

Ginny's heart ached with pity, ached at the sound of helplessness in his voice. She was allowed to hate MacNair for killing her mother, but what kind of Herculean effort would it take to hate your own father for doing the same? She stepped towards him, glad for once in her life that she was tall for a witch. His bent head was nearly at her eye level, so she didn't have to stretch upwards much to take his face in her hands and kiss his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she murmured against his hot skin. "I'm so sorry."

"Ginny," he whispered, and when he looked up they were mere inches away from each other. He reached up to take her hands in both of his, and she shivered as he brought them to his lips, never breaking eye contact. Her heart pounded like galloping hippogriffs in her head, so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it, and her breath was caught somewhere between her mouth and lungs. She wanted to kiss him, she realized suddenly. Not only that, she wanted him to kiss her back. That was desire pooling deep within her core, such a strange thing to feel after almost three years of numbness and nothing.

"Malfoy," she began.

"Good night," he said, and he let go of her hands and disappeared in the darkness of the house.

Ginny released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and gave herself five long minutes to calm down. _A moment of madness_, she thought, once she was back to normal. _I would never want to kiss Draco Malfoy._

_Ever._


	8. Seven

**Disclaimer: **The plot's mine. And that's about it.

**Chapter Seven**

An easiness had sprung up between them overnight, in the way they spoke and acted around one another, and Ginny found herself relaxing her guard against him. She still didn't say anything about the Resistance or anything of what she knew about happenings in England -- even though Arthur had gotten back to her that Malfoy was perfectly clean. It was no surprise then that one morning not long after their evening out with the Ketterings, instead of finding him gone to "talk to bankers," Ginny came down to breakfast to see him waiting for her.

He stood, as he had made a habit of doing. "Good morning," he said, and he even ventured an awkward smile, as though he wasn't used to making such a face. Ginny giggled as she sat down. "What's so funny, Weasley?"

"You. Trying to be pleasant and failing abysmally."

"Malfoys do not _try _to be anything but what they already are: cool and calculating," he said haughtily, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Ginny said, and he burst out laughing.

He rejected the idea of taking a walk with her around the island that afternoon, claiming he was expecting an important Floo call. The call inadvertently reminded her that he was up to something suspicious, and she frowned at herself for forgetting something so important. When she tried to eavesdrop at his door, however, one of the house elves came up and asked her loudly if he could do anything for her, so she had to run off before Malfoy caught her lurking in his doorway.

Ginny instead went looking for the day's _Mercury Herald_, as she had been reading it for the past few weeks, and found it folded up and waiting for her on an antique table in a side hall. Pleased, she took it to read in her favorite room, a spacious parlor with two wide bay windows facing out on the Sound.

He came in almost an hour later, looking startled to find her, and he immediately pulled on her arm. "Look, Weasley, I already told you about everything of interest this morning, you don't need to read the paper yourself." He started leading her out of the room.

"But you didn't read anything about the war," she said. "I --"

"The Americans aren't interested in the war, for the most part," he replied, "and when they are, their reportage is dreadfully bereft of any useful details." At her look, he said, "Believe me, I know."

"And this is coming from the wizard who said that he doesn't plan on returning to England ever again."

His mouth snapped shut noisily, and he only glared at her a moment. Then, "You won't find what you're looking for in the _Mercury Herald_."

"Then I want a subscription to the _Quibbler_."

"The _Quibbler_? That trash?" He threw back his head and laughed mockingly. "Good heavens, Weasley, I didn't know you believed in the existence of crumple-horned snorkacks too. Why didn't you tell me the war had made you go mental?"

"It's not the same anymore," Ginny insisted. "It's the underground newsletter of the Resistance. Luna and her father publish the whereabouts of the Death Eaters, spy reports from the front, articles about safe houses for witches and wizards on the run, and keep fully up-to-date lists of the dead, missing, and those at St. Mungo's." Ginny nearly bit off her tongue when she realized what she had just done. As it was, her expression of surprise was so exaggerated there was no way he could have missed it. She had just told a possible enemy about the Resistance.

"Oh really?" Malfoy said, eyeing her curiously. "And I suppose you'd like to keep track of your slumbering brother, is that it?"

"Dad never tells me how George is doing," Ginny said warily. "He thinks it'll upset me."

"Here we are." Malfoy took a ring of keys out of his pocket and fished around for the right one. "You said you like to read, and I'm sick of seeing you mope around the house. It makes me edgy, and I don't like being edgy." He found the key he was looking for and unlocked the door. "So here's the library. Make use of it."

Ginny gaped as he led her into a room that made the library at Hogwarts seem positively minuscule. Rows and rows of tall bookshelves, packed with ancient hardcover books neatly dusted and cleaned, marched across the room, shining in the sunlight from the vast window that made up the far wall. Soft, dumpy couches and chairs were scattered here and there, and each shelf had a sliding stepladder to facilitate reaching the books on the uppermost levels.

"Holy shit," Ginny swore, unable to keep herself from staring. "This -- this must be like Hermione's idea of heaven."

Malfoy frowned. "I didn't bring the mud-- Granger here, I brought _you_ here." He grabbed her hand again and led her deeper into the room. "There's all kind of books here, mostly the ones I dragged over from Wiltshire since Mum couldn't bear the idea of them being outside the family. Those are the ones with Dark magic in them, so if you really were interested in learning how to disembowel your enemies in three simple steps I suppose that's in here somewhere."

Ginny sniggered, but inwardly she couldn't believe he had remembered something she'd said. "Malfoy, I think you just made a joke."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Malfoys don't make jokes."

She laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"Our secret," he agreed, and when he turned away he was smiling -- a real smile, that softened the hard angles of his face.

He was almost human now, with feelings and a heart and everything. The way he acted made Ginny start to think that her first day in Seattle, when he had been so uncompromisingly nasty to her, had been an exception to his behavior rather than a rule. Malfoy had, after all, not paid much attention to her when they were at Hogwarts, settling instead for writing derogatory songs about her brother and mocking Harry at every opportunity. But why had he acted so rudely to her that first day, then seemingly had a change of heart?

She asked him just that, one night not long after going to the library, while they ate dinner together. They had just been talking about the differences in American rules Quidditch, so her question must have been something of a surprise to him. He, in his customary way, didn't bat an eye.

"I suppose it was because you remind me of him," he said slowly, after he had nursed a mouthful of wine. "Your brother, that is. Ron. And seeing you reminded me of Hogwarts, since that was the only time I ever saw you."

"And...you didn't like Hogwarts or Ron, so you treated me like shit?" Ginny said, putting two and two together.

"My father wanted me to go to Durmstrang," he admitted. "Thought I would get a more comprehensive education there. Only Mother's wishes sent me to Hogwarts, since she wanted me close. I hated it there."

She moved the food around on her plate. "I loved Hogwarts," she said, drifting back to the five years she had had there. "I loved it even more than the Burrow, because I wasn't just 'the little sister' there. I had friends to hang out with, people to talk to."

"I had no real friends," Malfoy said. "No one in Slytherin interested me in the least."

Her lips quirked in a smile. "There wasn't a rule that said you absolutely had to stay in your own house, Malfoy."

"My father wouldn't have allowed anything else. I can just imagine the look on his face if I had told him I was best mates with a Hufflepuff." He snorted and looked down at his plate. "But I was a git when I was a child. It was too much of a risk to be aloof and cruel here when I was completely alone, and I couldn't afford to make enemies without the strength of numbers. So I gave up the act around you almost immediately."

"Hence your almost polite attitude around your American friends."

"Quite. Only out of self-preservation, of course," he said sarcastically.

"_Ginny! Ginny, where are you?_"

Ginny nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of her father's voice, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and Malfoy had whipped out his wand and leapt to his feet. "Who's there?" he bellowed, eyes darting all around the room.

"Hang on, it's my mirror," she said, remembering. She always carried it in a spare pocket wherever she went, just in case, but this was the first time Arthur had ever contacted her outside of their usual Thursday evening talks. She fumbled around in her dinner robes looking for it, and when she pulled out the little mirror Arthur's face was there, his eyes wide and watery.

"Dad?" Ginny cried. "What is it? Are you all right? Is Tonks okay?"

"George," he managed. He was shaking all over.

"What?" She shuddered, and her eyes filled with tears as she steeled herself to hear the worst. Malfoy had come around to her side of the table and was staring down at the mirror in her hand.

"Oh Gin, he's awake. _George woke up_." Arthur broke down into joyous sobs.

Ginny couldn't breathe. _George. George. Oh God._ She didn't remember where she was until she felt Malfoy's hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see him staring down at her expressionlessly.

"You'll want to go to him," he said, stating a fact.

Ginny nodded. She turned back to the mirror and her father. "Dad, I'm coming as soon as I can."

"The Apparition Points --"

"No, that'll take too long. I'll figure something out." Arthur's face faded from sight and she stood and looked imploringly at Malfoy.

"Pinky will pack a suitcase for you," he said, and as he did he snapped his fingers and the little elf appeared. He gave her her orders and Pinky _popped_ out of sight again. "You'll Floo directly to St. Mungo's."

"Floo?" Ginny said, blinking. "I didn't think you could do that internationally."

"I can," he said. "I've made use of some connections I have in the Floo Network. The fireplace in the main visitors' parlor can take you to any fireplace in the world."

"Merlin," she breathed.

"You need to say the city name and country, of course, not just the place." He took her hand and led her out of the room as he spoke. "And since it's such a long way you'll be a bit dizzy, and maybe nauseous, from the motion."

"It's a small price to pay to get to George," Ginny said fervently.

"Yes," Malfoy said, and Ginny noticed that he looked almost sad beneath his stone-like mask of indifference. It was just something slight around his eyes, and the set of his mouth. Was he sorry to see her go?

They arrived before the massive parlor fireplace just as Pinky Apparated there with a large suitcase for Ginny. "Pinky is already missing her mistress," she said tearily, handing over the suitcase. Before Ginny could say anything, the elf had burst into tears and Apparated away.

"I will return," she said to Malfoy.

"Don't see why you wouldn't," he said stiffly.

"I don't know how long it'll be. I want to stay until they're certain he's all right."

"And I'll be here waiting for you when you get back."

Ginny nodded, suddenly feeling awkward around him. How to say goodbye to someone that she had once hated, when now she suspected that her feelings towards him were very much the opposite?

He cleared his throat and frowned at his hands. "I hope...I hope he'll be all right. For your sake. Not that I care how he is one way or another."

Ginny had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "I'm sure he's fine. Malfoy --"

"Yes?" He looked up, waiting expectantly.

"Thank you," she said, instead of what she had intended to say. "For this. For everything."

"Yes, well." He coughed and gestured at the fireplace. "I'll get the Floo powder."

He waved his wand at a bookcase by the window and a small marble bowl leapt to his hands, filled with the green powder. He waved the wand again and a warm fire sprang up in the grate, and he tossed a pinch of Floo powder in. The fire burned green briefly before turning back to its normal color. "You'd best be on your way," he started, sending the bowl of Floo powder back to its shelf, but Ginny had closed the distance between them and brushed her lips against his.

They stood, stock still, for a moment, and in that moment Ginny feared she had misread all of the signals, everything he had ever said, for he just _stood_ there -- but then his hands had threaded through her hair and he kissed her back, more gently than she had thought he would. His lips were soft and tasted faintly sweet like their dessert, and that same desire she had felt before, a month ago, came back full force and more. Merlin, she wanted him, and these kisses were completely chaste. Unbidden the image came to her of them laying in bed, limbs entangled, kissing everywhere they could reach...

He broke away first, short of breath, and Ginny stepped towards the fire, trying to calm her racing heart. She had to go now. George needed her. Reminded of her purpose, she picked up the suitcase Pinky had packed and stepped into the grate and turned around. Malfoy stared at her with those amazing eyes of his, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to jump back out and snog him for hours.

"I'll be waiting for you," he said again.

Ginny nodded, already eager to return to him. "St. Mungo's, London, England!" she cried, and she was spinning away, spinning faster than she ever had before traveling by Floo. Countless grates blurred past, hundreds, thousands, until she lost track and simply closed her eyes. She clutched her suitcase tightly to her chest, hearing it scrape against the insides of the smaller fireplaces. There was nothing to do but wait.

Then, just as she thought that she was ill enough to throw up, Ginny tumbled out, black and soot-covered, into St. Mungo's pristine white waiting room. She hacked up the ash she had swallowed, drawing stares from everyone in the room, and fell to her knees when her head swam from the abrupt end to the spinning. Malfoy had been right; Ginny felt so sick to her stomach she thought she would lose everything she had eaten that day.

A Healer and an Auror approached her as she knelt on the floor, groaning. "Name and business," the Healer snapped. Ginny looked up and saw that the Auror with him was none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"George --" she began.

"It's all right, I can take it from here," Kingsley said to the Healer, who nodded and left them. Kingsley bent down and helped Ginny to her feet. "Well, Gin, it's nice to see you, but you look awful."

Ginny pulled out her wand and cleaned up the soot on the floor and on her robes. "I've come all the way from America," she said. "It's a rough ride."

Kingsley looked around them. "I didn't just hear that, all right?" he murmured, his low voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Don't tell anyone where you came from. Arthur told me about what you had done, but keep it under wraps."

"Right," Ginny said, mentally kicking herself for being so thoughtless.

"Arthur's been here ever since the Healers told him about George," Kingsley said in his normal tone again, as he led her away from the fireplace and up to the Magical Maladies Ward. At her look, he said, "They've moved him, since the damage wasn't permanent, was it? Anyway, I've been here the whole time, doing guard duty. George woke up very suddenly, shouting all over the place, at about nine, and they sent for Arthur once they calmed him down. Arthur came and told him everything that had happened and let him get used to the idea. That's when he pulled out that mirror of his and told you."

"Why was George shouting?"

"Healer Cassiopeia says she thinks it's because he woke still thinking he was fighting in the battle where he fell."

Ginny's heart swelled with love and pity for her poor brother. "Imagine," she murmured, "losing four years of your life. Waking to find everything changed."

Kingsley nodded as they approached the room. Its door was closed, and Ginny remembered that most of the patients would be asleep now, it being well past midnight. "I've got to get back on guard duty," he said.

"Thanks for everything," she said, and she waved as he left. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed her way into the room.

It was dark inside, and she could barely make out the huddled shapes of sleeping patients in their beds; there were probably about ten or so other witches and wizards. At the opposite end, the last bed on the far wall was surrounded by folding screens and a lamp shone warmly on the inside. All was perfectly quiet, until Ginny passed through the Imperturbable barrier around the bed and heard their voices.

She stepped into the ring of screens and they turned to her. Both of them. Arthur's face was red and puffy, and she suspected he had been crying for hours. And George -- Ginny didn't get a good look at his face before she had thrown down her suitcase and flung herself into his arms, sobbing.

"Corking to see you too, Gin." His voice was hoarse after years of disuse.

"I'm so happy you're awake, George," she bawled, "Dad and I were so lonely --"

"I know." He rubbed her back and held her more tightly. "But I'm here now, right? Back from the dead."

She withdrew from him, but seated herself on the edge of the bed to get a good look at him. He had become a man in his sleep -- a thin, sickly man, with a serious look in his eyes and none of their former sparkle anywhere in sight. His hair was long and wavy, almost like Bill's, his chin covered in stubble. Only the color of his hair hadn't changed. It was as bright as the day he had fallen asleep.

"I thought --" She wiped at her eyes. "We thought you'd never wake up."

"I don't think I was supposed to yet," he rasped, looking briefly at Arthur before turning back to her. "My Healer says that the Spellweaver they had working on me, he said that the spell originally meant for me to sleep twenty years or more."

"But then how are you awake now? Are you going to fall back asleep?" she asked, gripping his bony arms in her hands.

"He fought it," Arthur spoke up, smiling at the two of them. George blushed modestly. "Cassie said she'd never seen anything like it. All that time he was sleeping he was fighting against the full strength of the curse. The times when we heard him sigh, or the one time when I saw him move his head, that was when the curse was weakening."

"I wish I could take credit for it, but I didn't consciously do it," George said, shrugging a little. "Like I said before, Dad, it felt to me like only a minute had passed from that battle until now."

"And that's why you woke up shouting," Ginny said.

"Yeah." He nodded and picked at a loose thread on his sheets. "I -- I still can't quite believe it, you know?"

"It's only to be expected," Arthur said. "We know how hard it must be for you."

"Do you?" George's lip trembled until he bit down on it. Ginny squeezed his hand, trying to comfort him. "Do you remember what the state of things was when Somner hit me? You were all alive still. I was seeing Alicia Spinnet. And Percy was still on the outs with us. Dumbledore had just died not that long ago."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears as she remembered. There had still been such hope then, such promise for the future. They had lost Dumbledore, yes, but Bill and Fleur had married, and Lupin was making headway with the werewolves, and Hagrid and Grawp had managed to bring some giants to the cause. To lose everything, all of that, all at once, instead of piece by piece the way Ginny and Arthur had done -- no, Ginny figured, she really couldn't imagine how hard it was for George.

"I was sure Harry would win," George said. "Positive."

"We all were," Arthur said.

"It's not his fault," Ginny said defensively, sniffling. "Voldemort fought dirty, and Harry just couldn't keep up with him. Harry was only eighteen, fighting an adult wizard!"

"Believe us, we know," Arthur said, reaching out and taking her hand. He took one of George's in the other. "It's just the three of us now," he said, gazing at them seriously. "We have to look out for one another and protect each other. Even though we've lost the others, we're still a family."

George nodded solemnly, his eyes too bright in the lamplight.

"I love you, Dad," Ginny said, and he gave her a wide smile before he stood and hugged her tightly.

Cassie and the other Healers that had been checking on George said that they wanted to keep him another twenty-four hours for observation, to make absolutely sure that the curse had been fully thrown off. "We'd hate to have him fall back asleep," Healer Cassiopeia said to Ginny, pulling her aside. "Especially since if he did fall asleep again, there's no promises he would ever wake up."

"Don't tell him that," Ginny said, feeling oddly maternal about her older brother. "We're just so happy he's okay."

"He might not sleep through the night for a long time," the Healer went on, "for obvious reasons. The other Healers and I think he'll be fully back to normal in a few months: sleeping, appetite, everything."

The observation period passed without any troublesome news, and George brightened when he heard that they were now living at Grimmauld Place. "I always liked that house," he said, while Arthur helped him get out of bed. George would be walking with canes until his leg muscles were strong enough to support his weight again. "Never knew what fascinating things you'd find next. I remember one time Fred --" He suddenly turned pale, and he didn't finish his sentence.

Ginny Flooed with him back to the house, with Arthur bringing up the rear with her suitcase, and they stumbled out into the kitchen Ginny hadn't seen in months. It was just the same as it always had been, completely unchanged. George sat down on the nearest bench, panting for breath from his exertion, and Ginny went to make tea.

She had thought since they first came to Grimmauld Place three years ago that if George was there with them, the house would be entirely different. He would joke a lot, maybe test some Wheezes on them, tease Ginny, be his old self. But it wasn't as though he had been on a trip, one which he could recount through long and fascinating tales -- he had been asleep, and he was weak as a baby. Three times a day Ginny helped him do laps around the kitchen to regain his strength, and Arthur made sure he got the largest portions of every meal. And George didn't tell them jokes or make them laugh, he only sat and stared into the fireplace or read the dusty books Ginny brought down from the library. They conjured a bed for him in the kitchen, since he wasn't strong enough to take the stairs up to a bedroom.

Ginny wasn't sure which room to clean out to make his though. While the Order had been fighting Fred and George had lived in their flat over the joke shop; there were no beds for them at headquarters. But where was he to sleep now? Should she clean out Bill and Fleur's room? Hestia Jones's? Maybe Tonks would let him have hers?

It had seemed like George was progressing slowly, for Ginny never saw him venture any farther than the well-worn track around the kitchen. She was surprised, then, when she came out of her room one morning and saw that the door to Charlie's room was open. George was in there, staring at all of the items strewn all over; Charlie had always been horrible about keeping his room clean. Dragonhide protective wear and gloves were thrown everywhere, some with nasty-looking burn holes in them. His spare broom was propped up in the corner, covered in cobwebs and one or two spiders. The bed was unmade, Quidditch posters were taped up on the walls, and a stack of drawings of Horntails and Short Snouts sat on the bedside table.

"Never knew Charlie was an artist," George said without turning around. Ginny moved closer to him. "They're pretty good."

"He was a lot older than us," Ginny said. "Well, he was a lot older than me, at any rate. I feel like I'm learning new things about him all the time."

"And none of this has been touched."

Ginny sighed and leaned her head on George's shoulder. "Dad and I tried, but we couldn't pack it away."

He shook under her, and she looked up to see his eyes filled with unshed tears. "I was just here, in this room," he whispered. "Five days ago. Me and Fred were asking him if he could get us some powdered dragon claw, for one of our new product ideas. His room looked just like this."

Ginny's lip quivered, and she put her arms around him. "George," she said. "Charlie's been dead for more than three years."

He crumpled, his frail body shaking uncontrollably, and had Ginny not been there he would have fallen to the floor. She tightened her grip on him and guided him to the dusty bed and they sat together, arms around each other.

"God, Ginny," George sobbed, and she felt her shoulder becoming wet with his tears. "I didn't want to cry in front of Dad, but -- I hate this. I _hate _this. I wish I was still asleep."

She held him as he wept, and out came everything he had held back when Arthur was present: how he couldn't accept that so much of his life was gone forever, that Harry had lost, that their family had been all but wiped out. "I miss Fred," he said, wiping his eyes on her robes. "You know how people say that when you lose a limb, you can still feel it there? A phantom limb? That's what I feel. There's this presence always to my left, and I keep turning and expecting to see him there."

"He was devastated when you were hit with the curse," Ginny said, wiping her own eyes dry. "He visited you every day and Mum and Dad had to drag him away when visiting hours ended."

"How did he die?"

Ginny winced. "George --"

"No, I need to know." His eyes had hardened, though they still glittered with tears, and she couldn't believe that this was really her George, looking like this. Was it all that long ago that he and Fred had snuck Canary Creams onto the refreshment table at Bill and Fleur's wedding, then cackled with glee as Ron bit into one unsuspecting?

She hesitated. "It's not very pretty."

"Tell me, or I'll have to ask Dad."

She reached for his hand and held it between both of hers. "He was the last one of us to die," she said quietly, "after Harry lost and Lucius Malfoy got Ron and Hermione. He was with Mum, and Dad kept trying to pull them out of the battle so we could get to Grimmauld Place. But just as they were about to come with us -- Mulciber..." She looked away, trying to steady her voice.

"Ginny." George squeezed her hands.

"He hexed Fred. I'd never seen a hex like that. It made him -- sweat his own blood. He was covered in it. Blood. He...screamed." She shuddered as she remembered the sound of her brother dying slowly and agonizingly, as his blood forced its way out of his body. "Dad went mental. Started hexing any Death Eater in range. Mum was sobbing. And MacNair got her too. So Dad grabbed me and we just ran."

George rubbed her back with his free hand, and Ginny let herself cry as she hadn't done since that first awful week in Grimmauld Place, when it had sunk in that everyone was really gone.

"It doesn't get easier, does it?" he said softly. "This isn't a nightmare we can wake from."

"There's always hope," she said. "Don't you dare give up on us, George Weasley."

He laughed hollowly. "No, I know. I'm too much of a coward to take my own life." He kissed the top of her head. "Reckon I just like complaining. Not much else to do around here anyway, is there?"

She laughed too, and wiped her eyes again. "Come down and have breakfast with me and Dad. He'll tell you about the Resistance."

Ginny wondered why Arthur hadn't told George about the Resistance already, but assumed that he was trying to keep George out of it, the way he had told Ginny she couldn't participate either. But George was a rapt audience, listening as Arthur told him about the small group of witches, wizards, and even a few Muggles who had banded together and worked to thwart the plans of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

"Those Muggles," Arthur said, chuckling and shaking his head. "They've had some surprisingly brilliant ideas lately. One of them used to work as an eckeltr-- well, he worked a lot with wires and spark plugs and eckeltricity -- and he found that something called an _eckel-magnetic pulse_ has detrimental effects on any magical objects in the area. So he made a contained one and set it off in a building the Death Eaters were using, and then we sent in former Aurors and managed to get all of them."

"Get...?" George said.

"Kill them," Arthur said blandly. "We don't have the manpower to guard prisoners anymore."

And, as Ginny expected, they eventually reached the topic of where she had been for the past few months.

"Draco Malfoy?" George said mildly, taking a generous swig of his pumpkin juice. "Thought he was dead."

"So we all thought," Arthur said. "His mother sent him to America for protection, Ginny said. I've checked him out as best I can, and as far as I can tell he's cut all ties to his father and other Death Eaters."

"But he's up to something," she said, remembering the mysterious Floo calls she had overheard. She told them about hearing things about shipments needing tight security, and him constantly wanting her to get out of the house. "He must be importing something extremely valuable," she finished, "but I haven't been able to figure out what."

"You don't think he's trying to raise support for Voldemort in America, do you?" George said.

"I don't know," Arthur replied, rubbing a hand over his bald head. "We don't even know the whole story. It might be perfectly legal what he's doing, he just doesn't want you to know what it is, Gin."

"And then again, he might be up to his old tricks," George said darkly. "Remember everyone thought he was harmless, and he ended up getting Death Eaters into Hogwarts?"

Ginny bit her lip and unwillingly thought of their kiss before she had left Seattle. She didn't want to think of Malfoy as evil anymore, she realized. But was it because she thought him changed, or because she didn't want to be attracted to someone who was dangerous?

"He didn't take the Mark," she said, interrupting their conversation.

"What?" Arthur said, blinking. "But a son of Lucius Malfoy --"

"He showed me his left arm. There was nothing there. Voldemort deemed him unworthy and denied it to him. That was when Narcissa sent him into hiding, so he wouldn't be killed, and Lucius killed her when he heard what she had done."

George whistled low. "I take back what I said. Reckon he wouldn't want anything to do with the Death Eaters after that. If he has a heart at all, that is."

"He loved his mother," Ginny said, and images from that night flashed before her eyes. "She was likely the only person who ever cared about him."

They spent the rest of breakfast talking about Malfoy and other Death Eater children who had not had mothers as devoted to them. For George's benefit, they told him about Malfoy's henchmen Crabbe and Goyle, who were running Azkaban and filling it with innocent Muggles and blood traitors; Theodore Nott, who ran the recruitment center that now occupied the building where Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes had been; Blaise Zabini, who had been killed just a few months ago in the course of bringing down Mad-Eye Moody. And then they had gone on to the Hogwarts students George had known -- Lee Jordan, burnt alive with Charlie's crew; Angelina Johnson, executed for being found harboring Muggles; Alicia Spinnet, missing since the final battle and suspected dead.

All the talk of how bad things were in England brought them back to Ginny's months in Seattle. "You need to go back there, Gin," her father said. "You're safer there."

"Someone needs to take care of George," she began, and George himself cut her off.

"I walked up an entire flight of stairs this morning," he said, "hardly using my canes. I'm getting stronger by the day, Gin, and I can take care of myself just fine."

"I -- I'd have to get back to the International Apparition Point," she said. "I got here by Floo because Malfoy's fireplace is hooked up to some kind of international network, but the one here isn't."

"Well, you've been there now," Arthur said. "You don't need Tonks to escort you."

She worried her hands together a moment. "You're _sure_ you don't want me to stay a few more days?"

"Positive," George and Arthur said in unison. "And hey," George went on, grinning, "maybe I can find someone willing to marry my ugly mug too."

She left after having been there two weeks, after she had helped her father and brother clean out Charlie's old bedroom for George's use, but she realized too late that she wasn't even supposed to have left America. All of the Apparition Points were watched by government officials. How would she get past them?

"These papers arrived last night by express owl," Opal said to her, the moment Ginny Apparated to the familiar white lobby of London's only functioning Point. "I've already looked them over and everything's in order." Ginny looked down and found, in the witch's outstretched hand, an official reentry visa signed by the Director of International Apparition. This had to be Malfoy's doing. Ginny thanked Opal and once again set off on the day-long journey back to Seattle.

When she arrived in Seattle's Apparition Center it was late in the afternoon, and no one was there waiting for her. After assuring the old customs official that she knew her way around, Ginny took a local Apparition Point to the one on Bainbridge Island, and then in a matter of minutes she was back inside the glass porch of Malfoy's island manor.

She heaved in a deep breath and released it, still standing on the Point, and closed her eyes. Strangely enough, she felt that now she was really home. She could smell the thick, rich aroma of the roses from the greenhouse, and the lemony scent of the cleaning solution the house elves used on the floors. And she heard footsteps.

Her heart leapt madly in her ribs, and Ginny opened her eyes to see Malfoy standing before her, hands in his pockets. She gazed at him hungrily, not realizing until that moment how much she had missed him.

"You're back, are you?" he sneered, giving her a head-to-toe look.

"I'm back," she said.


	9. Eight

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. That's about it.

**Chapter Eight**

It was as though their kiss had never happened. By the next morning everything was the way it had been for weeks, the two of them constantly barbing each other. She wasn't quite sure what she expected when she realized this development disappointed her -- had she wanted him to throw his arms around her and beg her to never leave him again, because he couldn't bear to live without her? Ginny giggled to herself at the idea of Malfoy saying something so dramatic and wholly out-of-character.

She bumped into him a few days after she returned, as she was making her daily pilgrimage to the greenhouse to help the two gardener elves plant and repot. "Gladioli are her favorite," he was saying to the one named Carthy, as Ginny approached, "so I'll want as much of that as you can grow in as many different colors --"

"Who likes gladioli?" Ginny asked, and he turned to regard her.

"Evelyn Prentiss," he said. "We're going to her birthday party next week, didn't I tell you?"

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "Goodness, it must have slipped your mind. Again."

"Well, we are. Evelyn is the liaison between the Muggle and wizarding governments of Washington state, and she has been helpful in my naturalization process. I must make an appearance and give her a very large gift."

"Gladioli?"

"And one-karat diamond earrings," he said, as though he'd said he was just giving her some costume jewelry.

"Merlin," Ginny breathed.

"Oh, don't worry. I bought some three-karat earrings for you to wear -- and the matching necklace."

Ginny swallowed. "Malfoy --"

"Do make sure the elves get that bouquet of gladioli in order, will you?" He sauntered off, leaving Ginny with her jaw dropped.

"Weasleys don't accept charity," she said to his retreating figure.

"Malfoys don't give it," he called back, and he smirked cheekily at her over his shoulder.

When she spoke to Arthur the next night, continuing their weekly conversations via the two-way mirrors, he could tell right off that something was different. "You don't know how good it is to see you happy, Gin," her father said, smiling. It looked dark behind him, as it always did, and Ginny was sharply reminded that, while her own life had changed drastically, everything was still the same in England.

"I can't explain it," she said, curling up under her bedcovers, the mirror tightly clutched in her hand. "I was so angry with him for so long, and now... He _is_ changed, Dad. He's almost normal now."

"He grew up," Arthur said. "He realized that acting the way he did doesn't work anymore, and he's matured. How does he treat you, since I don't think we asked you that when you were here?"

Ginny thought of that afternoon, when he had decided to go swimming with her in the bay. She thought of his lean torso, his pale white skin, and how he had spent nearly ten minutes putting on layer after layer of Sun Protection Charms while she made fun of his vanity. How he had splashed her with water, trying to get her to stop, and when that hadn't worked he had picked her up bodily and tossed her into the water. How she had reacted to the feel of his hands.

"He treats me better than he did at first. No, a lot better. He still insults me and acts superior, but it's different now -- he doesn't really mean it anymore. It's just for fun."

"So he isn't entirely his father's son," Arthur said darkly. "That's good to hear."

Ginny's heart skipped a beat at his tone. "Dad...what's happened now? Is it -- Lucius?"

Arthur sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose before answering. The gesture was so ordinary, so comfortable and so her father, that she longed to be with him again. "I've just finished reading this week's _Quibbler_," he said quietly. "Lucius Malfoy and a group of Death Eaters wiped out an entire town in Lancashire two days ago. _An entire town_, full of innocent Muggles. The men were tortured, the women raped; all were killed. The buildings were torched and the rubble is still on fire. There were two wizards living nearby who waited until the Death Eaters had gone, and they tried to save what and who they could but the destruction was complete. And now spies for the Resistance are reporting that there are plans for Avery to do the same with his own group, to some little village in Scotland near the Firth of Forth. The people are being evacuated to the old Abercrombie manor for now."

Ginny's heart skipped a beat. "I want to be there fighting with you, Dad," she whispered.

"Don't you dare say that," Arthur said sternly. "George and I are glad you're away from this mess. I've got enough to worry about with making reports and keeping up with news to worry about you as well. You're safe, Gin, so be glad of that."

"How is George?"

"Improving by leaps and bounds," he said proudly. "He's almost entirely capable of going without the canes now. I'd offer to let you speak to him, but he's asleep up in Charlie's old room. He still only sleeps about three hours a night, but we recently consulted Healer Cassiopeia and she says he'll eventually be right as rain."

"That's fantastic. Tell him I said hello, will you, Dad?"

"Will do, love. Well, it's very late here, and I've got to get some sleep myself," Arthur said, stifling a yawn. "Big day tomorrow. Kingsley is bringing in a refugee from Wales who was Obliviated and can't remember who he is."

"Good night, Dad. Sleep well."

"You too, Gin. Love you."

"Love you too." His image faded in the mirror until she could only see her own reflection.

Her first issue of the _Quibbler _was waiting for her at breakfast five days later, its cover photo of Hagrid and Madam Maxime smiling and waving up at her. _Make your house a safe house_, and _more deaths in Bootle, the Wirral_ were the main titles, written where there had used to be incredulous proclamations of fantastical beasts and people, including the charge, she remembered, that Sirius Black was actually Stubby Boardman. How times had changed.

She raised startled eyes to Malfoy. "You --"

"I do hope you appreciate that, Weasley," he said lazily, as they sat down. "I had to find an owl that was willing to fly transatlantic _and _transcontinental, and convince Mr. Lovegood that giving me a subscription would help raise awareness of the war in America." He drank down half his glass of pumpkin juice in one go. "Thank Merlin money and influence talks."

She touched the cover gently, and Hagrid gave her a big thumbs-up while Madame Maxime chuckled and smiled more modestly. "I didn't think you remembered my request. It was weeks ago."

He said nothing for a long time, so she raised her eyes to his. He was staring at her again, with that look in his eyes that she couldn't put a name to. "Why wouldn't I remember it?" Malfoy asked, once he had her attention.

"Because I'm a lowly blood traitor that has intruded on your life, spent loads of your money, and gives you nothing in return."

"Are you all of that?" he asked, sounded mildly surprised. "I've told you before, Weasley, I have no intention of marrying you -- so there goes any matrimonial duties -- and I have no issue with paying for anything you want, since I have far too much money. I cannot see why you would complain at all."

"But why did you do this for me?"

He ate a forkful of his eggs before answering. "Because you asked me to," he said simply.

Ginny's insides felt odd at his response, like someone had swilled them like the contents of a Pensieve. The room grew hot all of a sudden, and Ginny felt her face flush. She murmured her thanks without looking at him, and he accepted it with a silent nod of his head.

Evelyn Prentiss's birthday gala came more or less slower than Ginny would have liked, since she would secretly admit that she liked all of Malfoy's friends, and enjoyed dressing in beautiful clothes and eating good food. Tonight Pinky had bathed her in a super-fragranted bath again, and dressed her in plum-colored dress robes that flattered her coloring immensely. Her hair was up to keep her cool in the late summer heat, and woven through with twinkling diamonds.

Malfoy met her in the front hall, dressed in navy dress robes, with two jewelry boxes in his hands. _Ah_, she thought_, he didn't forget_. Even so, knowing what was in the boxes didn't keep her from gasping loudly as he revealed the diamond earrings and necklace.

"Bloody hell," she muttered. They were, to say the least, massive. The earrings were dangling teardrops, and the necklace was a fine silver chain with a diamond pendant of the same shape.

"May I?" he said. She nodded, afraid to touch any of the beautiful things, so he took the earrings out of their holder and carefully put them through the holes in her ears. His touch was tantalizingly light on the sides of her neck, combined with the feel of his breath skimming over her skin, and she got goosebumps that had nothing to do with being nervous about going to the party. "And now the necklace," he murmured, his lips near her ear. He picked it out of its case and swung his arms around her head to fasten the clasp at the back of her throat. Ginny reached up and touched the pendant carefully, trying to keep her breathing steady.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her until she was facing him again, and Ginny forgot to breathe altogether.

He hadn't always been this handsome, had he? His hair so shiny and smooth, begging for her to run her fingers through it; his eyes deep and alluring; his lips so soft and inviting? Ginny blinked several times to try and break the spell he had over her, but it was no use. Being so near to him, touching him, had aroused her beyond the point of return, and she would either have to have him or die trying.

It wasn't fair that he seemed completely unaffected by her. If he had been having the same dirty thoughts then he would have had her right on the parquet floor of the front hall, instead of taking her arm as he led her to the Apparition Point. If he had wanted her as much as she wanted him he would have kissed her by now, instead of allowing his hand to fall to the back of her waist as they went to present themselves and their birthday gift to Evelyn Prentiss and her husband Thomas. Ginny struggled to keep her mind clear, for Malfoy had muttered something to her earlier about behaving herself, but her entire body was focused on him, as though his was a beacon of heat, radiating at her.

_It's going to be a long night_, she thought tiredly.

Supper was the first of her trials. Malfoy was seated beside her at the table, to her right, so as they passed around dishes she found every excuse to brush her fingers against his, bump his elbow, lean in to whisper something to him. Her heart was pounding so rapidly, and she felt so giddy with desire that the meal seemed to drag on.

"You are absolutely glowing tonight, Miss Weasley," said Mrs. Winkler to her left, while they worked through the dessert course. "Why, I feel dull and ugly sitting next to you."

Ginny smiled. "I take no credit for it. It's this jewelry Draco bought for me."

The words were out of her mouth before she thought about them. _Draco_. She had never used his first name before, and it was so familiar to say it that she thought the room grew a few degrees hotter. She felt rather than saw him stiffen on her other side.

"And they are beautiful, I agree," Mrs. Winkler was saying, "but it's not that at all. You're radiant!"

Someone called to Mrs. Winkler on the other side of the table, and Ginny turned to find Malfoy giving her a leveling stare that shot right to her stomach. "You don't mind if I use your first name, do you, Draco?" she said in a low voice. "Malfoy is so formal."

"Draco is fine," he murmured.

She smiled, or tried to. "Then you may call me Ginny. Turnabout is fair play, after all."

"So it is," he said cryptically, and they finished dessert in silence.

After supper was the dancing, and Ginny thought she would tackle him and ravish him in the middle of the room after he kissed her hand and led her in the first dance. He held her very close to him, closer than he had at that first ball months ago when she had first arrived, and the fingers of his left hand were entwined through those of her right, his thumb stroking her index finger up and down, up and down. Whenever he spoke to her he would almost-but-not-quite put his lips near enough that they brushed against her ear. Ginny was constantly shivering.

"Are you cold?" he said an hour later.

She shook her head and breathed deeply, inhaling the spicy musk that followed him. "No, Draco. I'm kind of warm, actually."

"Mm. Yes, I think it's rather stuffy in here as well."

"Maybe we should go outside for a bit?"

"An excellent idea." Without another word he pulled her out of the throng of dancers on the floor and half-dragged her towards the French doors that led outside, to a broad porch overlooking magnificent enclosed gardens.

But they did not linger to enjoy the view. Draco pulled her far from the lights of the ballroom and the sounds of the party, past other couples looking to cool off in the night air, until he found a wide, dark alcove which housed a statue of the Greek goddess Persephone. Only then did he stop, and it was to yank her into his arms and kiss her breath away.

Ginny moaned wantonly and clung to the front of his robes, trying to press as much of her body against his as was possible. His tongue traced her lips imploringly and Ginny opened her mouth in response, nearly dizzy with lust as he tasted her. He slid his hands up from her arms to the sides of her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. Daringly, wanting him so much she could think of little else, she ground her hips against his, and was rewarded by his own groan and the feel of his arousal. _Oh God. I want him so much._ "Gin," he muttered, moving lower to kiss her throat; she obliged him by arching her neck. He moved one hand again, this time to her breasts, which he palmed through the thin material of her dress robes. Ginny bit her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. His breath was hot as a furnace against her, making her tremble with his every exhalation, and she knew that if they didn't do something soon they would end up shagging each other silly in Evelyn Prentiss's well-manicured garden.

With a monumental effort, she dragged herself away from him, panting. "We need to get out of here," she gasped. "We can't do this here."

"Why not?" Draco growled, and he found her pulse point and sucked on it, hard.

"The guests," she moaned, "they're right there --"

"Let them hear us."

"Evelyn is helping you become an American citizen!"

"Bugger." He moved away and smoothed back a few loose strands of his hair, while Ginny leaned against Persephone gulping for breath. "You're not feeling well," he said, and she couldn't believe that, after all of that, he still looked so collected and put together. She wanted suddenly to see him come completely undone. "You need to rest and so we unfortunately must leave earlier than expected."

It took her own addled brain a moment to process his words. "Oh. That's the excuse we're going to give, then?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Your face is flushed and you look about to faint, Ginny. I'd say it's almost the truth." He bent close to her and nibbled the shell of her ear, shooting jets of fire throughout her body. She made a sound in the back of her throat. "And it seems that whatever you've got is highly contagious, since I'm feeling a tad weak myself."

"Wouldn't want to infect anyone else," she breathily agreed.

He took her arm and drew her back into the ballroom. The Prentisses were near the orchestra speaking with a small group of wizards, but when Draco approached with Ginny in tow Evelyn immediately waved them all to silence.

"My apologies, Madam Prentiss," Draco said in his most proper British accent; Ginny had noticed that the American witches and wizards couldn't get enough of it when she or Draco spoke. "My dear cousin is not feeling well and must return to my home to rest. We would not wish for anyone else to come down with the same ailment."

"Oh, what a shame," Evelyn said, her brow wrinkling sympathetically. "Well, it was nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you feel better, Miss Weasley."

"Another time, then," Draco said. "Good evening to you all." He made a short bow from the waist, and pulled Ginny out of the ballroom behind him.

They had barely made it out of the Prentiss mansion before he had shoved her up against the outer wall, his hands everywhere, his lips and tongue coaxing such brazen sounds out of her that Ginny wondered what had happened to the famous English self-control. She worked his shirt out of his trousers and snaked her fingers up inside of it, touching his hot skin, and she was gratified to feel him tremble at the contact. "We'll never be able to Apparate in this state," he said when he broke away, his forehead pressed against hers.

"You just can't keep your hands off me," Ginny teased, her voice deep and throaty.

"Is that a challenge, Weasley? I accept." He pushed away from her with a superior smirk. "I think it's you that can't keep your hands off me." He pulled his wand out of a special pocket in his robes and sent up green sparks that made the shape of a dragon. "The car will be here soon."

Most frustratingly, he did keep his hands away from her as they waited, and when the car pulled up he did not offer his hand to help her in as he usually did. When they were seated Ginny reached for him, unable to bear it another moment, but she was stopped by a look from Draco.

"I'd rather not force my driver to witness acts of lewdness while he's on the job," he murmured, darting his eyes forward. "He puts up with enough as it is."

"Lewdness?" Ginny said. "Well, if that's what you want to call it --"

"Let's just say that I'll have you begging for more by the time I'm finished with you," he said, sending a powerful shockwave through her. Smirking at the color rising in her face, he settled back into his seat, looking out the window.

It was the longest journey Ginny had ever taken.

By the time the limo pulled up to the general store on Bainbridge Island she was nearly blind with lust, unable to see anything but Draco. She stumbled out onto the pavement after him, and let him lead the way to the Apparition Point in the alley. "You look flustered," he said coolly. "Take my arm if you need to, I really don't want to have you splinch yourself and ruin the evening." She grabbed his arm and barely felt the hard pressure of Apparating.

Ginny had never been so happy to see the glass porch, but she had no time to enjoy it as Draco pulled her away from the Point and they were almost running to the stairs. "Bloody hell," she panted, "I don't think I can make it to wherever you're taking me, Draco."

He turned and raised his eyebrow at her. "Tell me," he said, "are you a virgin?"

She blinked, taken aback. "No." She didn't have to say who her first time had been, and his name hung unspoken in the air between them.

"So it's been about four years since you've been with a man."

She blushed, hearing him put it in that way. "I suppose so," she murmured.

He stepped closer to her and cradled her face in his hands, as though she were something delicate and easily breakable. His eyes were dark as iron, and she knew then that he had to want her as much as she wanted him. "Then I intend to make sure that it isn't another four years before you're with me again," he said in a low voice.

She let out a shuddering breath, and in the space of a blink he had Apparated them once more, this time to a vast bedroom done in green and silver. His bedroom. She had never been here, but she did not have time to admire the decor. With an impressive bit of wordless magic, he waved his wand and doused all the lamps save one, leaving the room dark and shadowy.

"You've done this before," she said matter-of-factly, looking around.

His answer was to bring his lips to hers again, in a kiss that burned clear through to her fingers and toes. She gasped in delight and he delved into her mouth with his tongue, doing things that she could easily imagine their bodies mimicking. As she clung to him to stay standing, he pulled all of the clips and holding spells out of her hair, and it cascaded down her back and shoulders. He bumped his hips into hers, forcing her back, and Ginny moved until she felt his bed behind her.

"Up," he commanded, and she scrambled to comply. While she lay back on the massive pillows clumped at the head of his bed, he set about slowly removing his outer robes, casting them aside onto the floor. Ginny licked her lips and, unbidden, a frustrated groan escaped her mouth.

He looked up, smirking. "Missing me, Gin?" He joined her on the bed, crawling up to meet her like a panther, and he kissed her again forcefully. She moaned and arched her back against his body. "You're wearing far too much," he muttered, and he took out the two diamond earrings first. "Paid a lot for those," he said. "Don't want to ruin them." He tossed them onto his robes on the floor. Once they were gone he nibbled at her left earlobe, while his hands started tugging off her dress robes. Fingers shaking, she undid the buttons on his shirt; he threw it off once she had unbuttoned them all. By then he had managed to get her robes pushed down to her waist. He bent and kissed her breasts through the thin material of her bra, and Ginny gasped. She couldn't believe how good it felt.

"There was a reason why I asked you to get nice underthings," he said, frowning at her plain white cotton bra.

"Forgive me if I didn't exactly predict this ever happening," she said breathlessly, smiling up at him.

"Oh no? But am I not irresistible?" With another wave of his hand he banished the offending article of clothing. She cried out as he licked and sucked at the newly exposed flesh, making her dusky nipples harden and peak under his attentions, and she held his head in position. From there her hands ran over the planes of his back, exploring every inch of his ivory skin. Wanting to see him lose some control for once, she lifted her leg and rubbed her shin against his arousal.

"_Fuck_," he growled, and he thrust against her hips, sending a sharp jolt of ecstasy up from her belly. "Right, if that's how you want it --" He yanked her robes all the way down and threw them aside, and started planting openmouthed kisses on the flat surface of her stomach. Ginny squirmed and gripped the comforter in her hands, gasping for breath. His hands slid up her legs for the waist of her panties, and, with agonizing slowness, he pulled off her last item of clothing.

Even through the haze of her pleasure, Ginny felt her cheeks darken with embarrassment at being so exposed. Draco was probably used to much more experienced women, who could match his talent, and now he was with her, who had only slept with one other man and only once at that --

He cut off her thoughts by kissing her on the lips, more carefully than he had before, and she wound her arms around his neck. Experimentally she arched her back again, so that her breasts rubbed against his chest, and she was rewarded by feeling a shudder run through him. He was still touching her thighs, brushing his fingertips ever-so-lightly against her skin, higher and higher, and then he had pressed them right up against her entrance.

Ginny shivered and threw her head back. "Relax," he whispered into her throat, and then she felt one of his fingers sliding into her. "Merlin, you're so wet," he murmured, kissing her clavicle and the valley between her breasts. In and out he thrust his finger, adding a second, and she lifted her hips slightly each time to meet him, panting and moaning at the delicious sensations. When he withdrew she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, silently begging him not to stop. "Patience, Gin," he said, kissing her lips, and he sat back and removed his trousers, socks, and boxers, dumping them onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Seeing him naked made everything suddenly swim into sharp focus, and she shut her eyes. Merlin. She was about to shag a Death Eater. _The son of a Death Eater_, a voice corrected her. His father had killed Ron and Hermione, not to mention countless others. Who was to say that, simply because Draco hadn't shown the same vicious tendencies, he was any better? Just how far from the tree had he fallen? _Oh God, oh God, I'm certifiable for doing this. I should have stayed in London with Dad and George --_

"Ginny." His voice, low and husky and enough to send a thread of desire through her, to force her to still her frantic thoughts. "Open your eyes." She did, reluctantly, and found that he had positioned himself over her again, with his eyes not far from hers. And, as she sucked in a quick breath, she realized that that mysterious look was in his gaze, the one she had seen before and hadn't been able to identify. What was he thinking, behind those mercurial depths? What was she to him? Why did she care what he thought of her?

Gently, he reached down and drew her knees apart, and situated himself in the cradle of her legs. He moved a little and his hips bumped into hers again, making her gasp and her eyes to roll back in her head.

"Look at me," he said, bracing himself on either side of her head. Then, with exquisite torture, he guided himself to her entrance and slid into her.

It was all she could do to stay focused on him, for their locked gazes seemed somehow even more intimate than what they were doing with their lower bodies. Never breaking away from her stare, he began thrusting into her, filling her in such a way that she wondered how she had missed that gaping void inside herself. Panting, she encircled his body with her arms and legs, bringing him as close as she could, urging him to move faster and harder. A heady grunt escaped his lips and his strokes became more frantic. He had to be close, it was something about the way each time he blinked he held his eyes shut a little bit longer -- and the expression on his face... Ginny had never seen him look more beautiful, so completely lost to emotion and so utterly hers. Moaning something that sounded like her name, he reached down with one hand to the place where they were joined, and rubbed against --

"_Oh!_" She nearly threw him off of her when she arched her back in reaction. Suddenly her body was on fire, alive, infinitely closer to ecstasy. She couldn't look into his eyes anymore, not when she was writhing under his touch, desperate to reach her peak. "Come for me, Gin," he murmured, "let me see you," and that alone nearly brought her there. The next few minutes blurred together in a haze of pure sensations, sounds, culminating in a release that came with such force Ginny screamed his name for all the world to hear, clinging to his body like it was a missing part of her own, and only seconds later did he sigh _Ginny_ in her ear, and collapse on top of her.

It took forever, it seemed, for her to regain her breath, for Draco lay atop her until she nudged him with her knee; he then rolled over onto his back and promptly fell asleep, one arm and one leg draped across her protectively. She felt... Ginny closed her eyes and smiled up at the canopy above her. _Wonderful_. Happy, just like her father had said. Content in a way she hadn't been in years.

_I don't care if he's a Death Eater's son_, she thought, just before pleasant exhaustion overtook her mind and body. _Any more of this and I could easily fall for him._

hr 

She forgot where she was for a moment when she awoke the next day. Late morning sunshine, golden yellow and orange, filtered through the silk curtains and made everything it touched appear gilded in purest gold. She lay a few more minutes in bed, reliving the night before, and remembering how he had woken her up a few hours after the first time -- "Well?" "Has it been four years yet?" -- and it had been just as mind-blowing the second time around. Though there were definite aches and pains in her lower half that hadn't been there before, already her body hummed and longed for more. Ginny turned around to wake him up, as he hadn't made a sound beside her.

Because he wasn't there.

Ginny sat up, pulling the sheet to her chest, frowning and looking about the room. Now she could see the thick green carpets on the floor, the ebony furniture and bedposts, the heavy green velvet curtains on the windows and around the bed. But no Draco.

"Draco?" she called, thinking maybe he was in the attached bathroom, but there was no answer. Shrugging, she excused him for his absence. She could hardly expect him to be the romantic type, and really, she hadn't wanted to wake up in his arms. Not too much, anyway.

She pulled on her purple dress robes from the night before, noticing that she was still wearing her high heels and the diamond necklace. Blushing, she took the necklace off and placed it on the table beside the bed, and removed her shoes and let them dangle from her hand. After glancing in a huge mirror on the wall to check that she was somewhat presentable, she headed downstairs, unable to keep a smile from crawling up her face.

A male voice came up to her as she went down the sweeping front stairs. She instantly picked up her pace, eager to see Draco, but when several other male voices responded she paused. Had he guests over for breakfast? In all the months and weeks she had been there, he had never had anyone over for any meal but dinner. But they would be in the dining room if they were eating, she reasoned, and if that were true she wouldn't have been able to hear them at all, since the dining room was at the very back of the house.

She descended the rest of the stairs and started for the dining room, and it was then that she realized where the noise was coming from, because there were more than just men's voices, there were women too...and that sounded like a baby crying...

Ginny approached the hallway where her favorite parlor was, the one with the giant bay windows that overlooked the Puget Sound in all its natural glory. _Whenever I'm in there Draco kicks me out or finds somewhere else for me to be_, she realized then, heart pounding. _Almost as if he were hiding something in there. Something to do with his shipments, perhaps._

She rounded the last corner and found the doors to the parlor thrown wide open. Draco stood in the door frame, feet spread in a commanding stance, dressed pristinely in black robes. There were three wizards in dark gray robes visible farther into the room, rough-looking types that looked out-of-place amidst the finery of Draco's manor. But more obvious and more startling was the fact that the far wall, opposite the wide bay windows, was now half-gone. A massive hidden door had been opened to reveal a subterranean storage space.

And there were people coming out of it. Small children wearing tattered robes and clutching threadbare stuffed animals, women with hungry faces and lightless eyes, men who looked beaten down with suffering and pain. All staring at Draco and now Ginny as though two centaurs had galloped into the room.

Draco hadn't noticed she was behind him yet. "I meant for this to be done by dawn," he snapped at the nearest wizard in gray. "What's taking so long?"

"Large group here, sir," said the wizard. "And there were evidently some problems at the Apparition Point." His eyes fell on Ginny, who was staring in utter shock and horror at the scene before her. _The shipments_, she realized, feeling sick.

Draco turned and started when he saw her. He grabbed her upper arm. "What are you doing here?" he bellowed.

"Don't you touch me!" Ginny screamed, wrenching away from him and biting back a sob. "I thought you had changed, but you're your father's son after all!"

His eyes blazed so fiercely then she almost cowered in fear before him. "I'm not doing anything wrong --"

"Human trafficking isn't _wrong_? Selling people into slavery is _all right_?"

"Ginny --"

"Get away from me!" she cried, and her voice broke. "I never want to see you again!" She waved her wand and, before he could grab her, she had Apparated away.


	10. Nine

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is not mine.

**Chapter Nine**

_I never want to see you again!_

She hadn't thought of where she was Apparating to before she did it, nor considered whether she was concentrating enough to do it well, so when she neither splinched herself nor ended up in the middle of the ocean she knew she was very lucky. She was at the ferry station on the mainland, but Draco probably knew some kind of Tracking Spell to follow where she had Apparated to. Ginny started running as soon as she had her bearings. She was without any money or means of transportation besides Apparating, and the Muggles were staring at her in her peculiar clothes and bare feet. Already, the odds were in his favor.

A sob escaped her lips, and Ginny wiped angrily at her tears as she ran through the busy streets. Her heart ached as it never had before; she couldn't believe how much his betrayal hurt. "Stupid, stupid Ginny," she muttered to herself as she went. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, remember? Remember when you said that? How could you have forgotten?" There was a sharp crack far away, back where she had originally Apparated, and she knew Draco (_Malfoy, he's _Malfoy) must indeed have Tracked her and come after her. Quickly she ducked inside a bus shelter, out of sight of any innocent Muggles, and Apparated again.

This time she ended up outside the International Apparition Point, and she dodged inside. A young wizard in red robes looked up as she dashed through the lobby. "Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes, hello," Ginny said breathlessly, holding a stitch in her side. While she shifted her fancy dress shoes from one hand to the other, she said, "I need to get out of here. What Points are open right now?"

The wizard looked confused but didn't ask her what was wrong. "There's attendants monitoring Apparitions to Las Vegas, Pierre, and Denver right now, if --"

"Denver," Ginny said, choosing at random. "Send the bill to Draco Malfoy, will you?" The wizard nodded, bewildered, and told her where to go. Ginny set off running towards the row of private Apparition rooms until she found the one labeled COLORADO and burst through it.

"Last call, Denver, Colorado," said the witch attendant. "You going through?"

"Yes," Ginny said, and without waiting for the woman to give her permission she jumped up onto the platform and Apparated away.

Or tried to.

"Why isn't it working?" Ginny cried, certain that Malfoy would come through the door in any minute.

The witch, frowning, ran her wand over Ginny's body. "You're not an American citizen," she said, almost accusingly.

"No, but I have residency -- I have a green card, I just don't have it with me --"

"Doesn't matter," said the witch. "Any witch or wizard not a full citizen can't leave their state of residency until they've notified the Secretary of Magic of where they're headed and why." She paused in her wand scan. "It also looks like you've got another sort of spell on you too."

Ginny squirmed as though it was a tangible thing. "What is it?"

"Well that's strange," she said, frowning, as she waved her wand in the air a few more times. "It's a Property Charm. People usually put them on their belongings -- inanimate objects, that is, never people. It works like a Tracking Charm, so the caster can always know where his or her property is, even when stolen."

Ginny's eyes widened. She hadn't thought she could be any angrier, but evidently she could. "That two-faced, self-centered, evil piece of _dragon dung_ --"

"What a mouth you have, Weasley."

Draco stood in the open door of the room, his eyes hard and flat, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Ginny pointed her wand at him. "Don't get any closer, or I'll remind you how well I can cast a Bat Bogey Hex."

"Look," the Apparition Point witch said tiredly, "I haven't got the time to deal with your little lovers' spat, so you'll need to take this someplace else."

"My apologies," Draco said smoothly, inclining his head towards her. "We were just about to leave."

"I'm not going _anywhere_ with --"

"Come along, love," he said shortly. "_Expelliarmus_." Her wand flew into his hand before she could block, and he took her by the arm. They had Apparated away before she could protest, and they wound up back at his island mansion, in the glass porch that housed his private Point.

"They're gone," he said to her unspoken question. "And look, I'm going to give you back your wand too." He tossed it towards her and she clutched it tightly. "I realize I have a lot of explaining to do, and that I should have told you everything sooner so you didn't have to find out like this."

"Damn right," Ginny spat.

"Shall we sit?" Malfoy said, unruffled. "In fact, I think I could use something to drink as well." He snapped his fingers and moments later Alecta had popped into sight.

"Yes, master?" she said with a deep bow.

"We would like some butterbeer in my study," he said, and Alecta was gone a second later to fulfill his request.

Malfoy turned back to Ginny, who had her wand still pointed at him. "Well, come on, I haven't got all day." With that, he turned on his heel; Ginny was forced to follow.

She had never been inside his study before, only outside it, so when he led her to the room she looked around warily before sitting down. A massive walnut desk occupied most of the space, and the hardwood flooring was covered with a soft Persian rug. A small fireplace sat between two tall windows behind the desk, and wizard pictures of Quidditch players sat on the mantel. There were books in here too, though not Dark Arts ones like the bulk in the library: spell books, herbology and potions guides, and some textbooks that looked very familiar.

"I never finished my magical education," he said, when he saw her staring. He had seated himself, not behind his desk but in a high-backed Queen Anne chair, a twin to the one Ginny sat in. "I've been studying all the things I would have learned in my seventh year at Hogwarts."

"I've been using Hermione's class notes," Ginny admitted after a moment.

"Yes, I can imagine those would be fairly detailed," he said dryly. Alecta arrived with a tray of butterbeer, and they each took their bottle from her. Ginny didn't drink hers, only held it in the hand that wasn't pointing her wand at Malfoy.

He began as soon as the little house elf had gone, sipping at his butterbeer before he spoke. "I've been hiding something from you," he said, gazing calmly at her. "It's been proper procedure for years, so I never thought to break the rules, but then..." He frowned and looked away, and Ginny waited for him to continue.

"Those people you saw in the side parlor earlier. Those weren't slaves of any kind. They were refugees, Muggles and wizards alike, from England. I'm not some..." He waved his hand in the air -- "some kind of trafficking lord, making money from selling human flesh. The thought disgusts me, frankly."

"Even though some are Muggles?" Ginny tested him. "Or Muggle-born wizards?"

"Please, Ginny," he said, laughing a little. "You still have this idea that I'm completely unchanged. I was a right little snot when I was at Hogwarts; I know that and I won't pretend I wasn't. But when I first arrived here and the Americans saw the way I acted -- the Prentisses, the Ketterings, all of them -- they thought me backwards. Me, Draco Malfoy, _backwards_," he said loftily. "They couldn't believe how primitive my beliefs were. That's the word Madam Kettering used, 'primitive.' And then she told me she herself was Muggle-born, long after I had already started considering her a friend. She told me that, of all the people I had been associating with since I had arrived in America -- people I had simply assumed to be purebloods because of their wealth and prestige -- there was but one pureblood in the lot: Melvin Winkler. And his wife Maida was a Muggle-born."

Ginny blinked, surprised. She had automatically thought, since it was Malfoy, that all of his friends were purebloods too.

"So that greatly affected me, of course," he went on, after drinking some butterbeer. "Long story short, I began to see that all the rubbish Lucius and my mum had been telling me since I was born was just that: rubbish. And shortly afterwards I and a number of the other wizards in my contact started up Spillman's Speedy Spouse."

This time Ginny dropped her wand arm in shock. "You -- what?"

"That's right," he said, smirking. "I am Rigel Spillman, owner of the Speedy Spouse mail order bride service."

"But -- but -- dear _Merlin_," she said, bewildered. "That's why your handwriting looked so familiar --"

"I was still getting the _Daily Prophet_ then," he said, as though she hadn't spoken, "so this was before Potter died and the open hostilities had ended. The wizards here had heard almost nothing about the war, so I was happy to enlighten them." The hand holding his butterbeer tightened until his knuckles were white. "I let them see the pictures of the destruction and read the stories from the front, and they were horrified. We jointly decided that something had to be done, and as soon as possible. While the others contacted their friends in other parts of the country, passing on the urgency and necessity of the cause, I started obtaining international business permits and setting up fake companies through which to help smuggle people out of the country. The first was Speedy Spouse."

"But why a mail order bride service?" Ginny asked wrinkling her nose.

He raised an eyebrow. "You really must have been sheltered from the devastation if you can't answer that yourself."

She shrugged, embarrassed. "Dad had this obsessive need to protect me, and I didn't question it."

"We decided to get the women out of the country first because the threat to them was more immediate than the threat to men and children," he said, looking away. "The children were in schools, learning the new doctrines and how to worship and obey Voldemort, depending on whether they were purebloods or not; the men were used as hard labor. The women were raped or used to...produce more laborers." He twisted his mouth distastefully. Ginny shuddered. So that was what her father hadn't told her when he had said she was in danger. He saw her reaction and snorted. "Oh don't worry, Ginny, you would have been married off to a pureblood and used to breed a new generation of Death Eaters. Probably eight or nine, considering there are so few purebloods."

"What a comforting thought," she spat, unconsciously pressing one hand to her belly. "But then why couldn't you just set up a hidden Apparition Point and --"

"No," he said, waving her to silence, "that never would have worked. If people had known there was a legitimate way to get out of the country, word would have spread and it would have eventually reached the wrong ears. If you had known there was a fail-safe way to get out of England, wouldn't you have told as many people as you could? Wouldn't you have brought your father and brother with you?"

Ginny said nothing, thinking of her family.

"Justinian Kettering had some friends in wizard advertising in England, so I put him in charge of placing ads for Speedy Spouse and Helping Hands --" he frowned darkly "-- which, unfortunately, yes, I did have to pretend was a human trafficking outfit. But as soon as people come overseas we release them. We don't sell a single one of those people as slaves." His voice had hardened, and he stared at her until she nodded, accepting his word. "They are Apparated to that secret room in the parlor, since we didn't want to clog the official Apparition Points, then they are taken by people like those three wizards that you saw to hosts, who will help them restart their lives."

"But Voldemort must realize something's going on," Ginny said. "How could he not have a problem with people escaping his clutches?"

Draco shrugged and swirled the butterbeer in his bottle a moment. "We do get trouble from him sometimes. Occasionally a Death Eater squad will have their way with the groups before they come here, but we're very careful about security. I've seen my father's insignia ring burned onto the backs of far too many of them," he said bitterly. "But I think Voldemort likes it when they struggle. He likes being challenged, so he can show off his powers and abilities. He likes breaking people slowly, not killing them outright. And I think he assumes that these people coming through Speedy Spouse and Helping Hands are the weakest of the weak, people too defeated to bother over -- present company excluded, of course," he added, raising his butterbeer to her and inclining his head.

"Evelyn Prentiss has been in charge of integrating our refugees into American society," he went on. "Through her government contacts she's been getting them residency cards or citizenship, whichever they prefer, and she maintains a network called Wizards Abroad Needing Direction, so separated families can get in touch with one another. I think at her last count, we have helped close to six thousand people get out of England: men, women, and children alike."

Ginny leaned back in her chair, stricken. "Six thousand?" she whispered.

"More or less," he said casually.

"Oh God." The pieces were falling into place now. "So I'm one of the people you helped get out of England."

"Yes. Speedy Spouse is a bit different, in that the witches arrive by themselves. A group of wizards, including myself, take turns 'accepting' the various witches, and when they arrive we help them find employment, purchase a house, find their families."

Ginny frowned. "But -- you didn't do that with me."

"No, I didn't." A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he avoided her eyes. "And I won't tell you why, so don't bother asking."

She swallowed, still trying to process everything he had told her. "I'll bet some of the wizards you've smuggled overseas are on the list of the missing that the _Quibbler_ publishes."

"I know for a fact that they are," he said. "I happened to look through the last issue you received and recognized some of the names. I've already got Madam Kettering on it; she's going to introduce herself to Mr. Lovegood and set up a mode of communication so that we can help him keep his lists accurate. She's also going to ask permission to publish the list in W.A.N.D.'s biweekly newsletter, for the sake of the English people here."

She sank back into her seat, a strange warm feeling rising up inside of her. Only after several moments had passed did she realize what it was: hope. "This is unbelievable," she breathed.

Draco finished off his butterbeer and set down the bottle with a hollow _clink_ on his desk. "I suppose so," he said distractedly.

"You know, I never would have believed this of someone like you."

"Yes. Someone like me." He looked up at something, and Ginny turned to see a massive portrait of Narcissa Malfoy on the far wall. Narcissa was reclining on a chaise longue, fast asleep.

Something occurred to her then. "If you're so set on helping your fellow Englishmen, you obviously still care about what happens there," she said slowly.

He tore his eyes away from his mother's portrait. "Your point?"

"Why are you becoming an American citizen?"

"I'm not, Madam Kettering was mistaken." Draco turned his butterbeer bottle in a slow circle, regarding it from all angles. "I did begin the process, with Evelyn Prentiss's help, about a month or two before you came here, but I changed my mind and dropped my case. Stopped filling out the forms, that kind of thing."

"Why?" Ginny eyed him warily.

He shrugged carelessly, but there was a fire in his eyes. "Because you were right," he said. "Seattle isn't my home. The food is horrible, I hate the weather, and the people are so prickly. I am the Malfoy heir; I belong on my ancestral lands in Wiltshire, and no madmen in skull masks are going to keep it from me." He shifted in his seat. "So my motives were purely selfish. I wanted to prove to everyone that I wasn't primitive or backward, and get my property back. I'm really not so different than I was."

"Well, that's true. You're still an arrogant bastard and a git."

"I was going to say that I have a superiority complex, but I suppose either description will do," he said, his lips quirking as he suppressed a smile. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well. I think that's everything I was hiding from you."

"I don't think I could handle very much more," Ginny said honestly.

"Oh?" Draco said, and he stood. "Actually, now I think of it, there is one more thing. You probably didn't recognize him earlier, but he knew you instantly." He snapped his fingers twice and a house elf wearing several clean dishcloths appeared. "Have the wizard staying in the Green Bedroom come down here," he said, and the elf bowed and disappeared once again.

"He...? One of the refugees?"

"Yes. I just checked the latest _Quibbler_ and saw his name on the list of the missing. You'll be happy to know that he's alive and more or less healthy."

Someone knocked at the door and Ginny went to it, her heart in her throat. Who could this possibly be? An old Hogwarts friend? Someone who knew her parents?

She opened the study door, and her face lit instantly. "Professor Lupin!"

He looked older than ever now, with his hair entirely gray and his face aged beyond its years. But he was wearing new robes, not his shabby, patched ones, and his smile was as broad and kind as before. "Please, Ginny," he said, with a little laugh, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'm not your professor anymore?"

"I'll get us some more butterbeers," Draco said, and Ginny heard him summon another house elf.

"But where have you been?" Ginny asked, pulling Lupin into the room and forcing him into a seat; she took the chair she had recently vacated. "Everyone's been looking everywhere for you, ever since the final battle --"

And after Alecta arrived with more butterbeers for them all, Lupin proceeded to tell her about how he had had to stay with the werewolves, to prove his loyalty to them and not lose the valuable spying position he had gained within the group. "I earned Fenrir's full trust," he said. "It took almost a year, but I did it." He looked pained then, and he met Ginny's eyes. "I was there when your brother Bill was killed. I didn't join in, but --"

"No, don't say anything," she said hoarsely, blinking back tears. "I know you would've helped him if you could."

After two years of running with the pack, however, Lupin's health had declined too much for him to stay with the werewolf pack. He was too used to living amongst humans to make the transition, and he became weak and sickly. Fenrir had turned on him then, saying he wasn't a real werewolf, and Lupin had had to run for his life or they would have killed him.

"I left them, unfortunately, in a place in India that I didn't know very well, so I wandered for days before I even found civilization, let alone other wizards. Then I had to make sure I was also far from any humans at each full moon, since I couldn't find anyone to make the Wolfsbane Potion for me. I traveled on foot for, well, I guess it's been years, hasn't it?" He looked to Draco, who nodded.

"Potter died three years ago next month," Draco said.

"Tonks was convinced you were dead," Ginny said. "We all thought you were."

Lupin gave her a tight smile. "I figured as much," he said slowly, and he swallowed a mouthful of butterbeer. "I only returned to England a month ago; I landed near Dover. But everything was such a mess that I didn't even know where to turn. I saw the advert in an old issue of the _Quibbler_, and by the time I found it I was so desperate to get away from the war and the destruction I was willing to do anything."

"Is Fenrir still alive?" Draco asked. "How large is his pack now?"

"Yes, last I heard," Lupin said, "and the pack grows larger every full moon. But many of them now are mere children, to be trained to hate all non-infected people." He shuddered.

They spoke straight through lunch and well into the afternoon, about the things Lupin had seen in his three years on the road, how England was faring under her new dictator's rule. Then Draco told him about Speedy Spouse and Helping Hands, which greatly impressed the older wizard. He instantly offered to do anything he could for the refugees, and Draco said he could take him to see Evelyn Prentiss the next day.

"She will want to know you're a werewolf," he explained, "and you'll need to be registered in the proper places if you plan on staying here, of course."

Lupin chuckled. "Of course. You forget I've been living with lycanthropy for longer than either of you have been alive. I think I can handle it."

"Werewolves are treated differently in America," Draco said. "For one thing, the government demands that all apothecaries know how to make a Wolfsbane Potion or risk losing their license. They make it free of charge for all card-carrying werewolves, who are heavily fined if they don't take the potion every month."

Lupin blinked. "Well. I like this place better already."

"Surprising place, America," Draco agreed, smiling a little.


	11. Ten

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine. Though if JKR would like to get Draco Malfoy off her hands, I'm more than willing.

**Chapter Ten**

Ginny and Lupin spent an entire week catching up on one another's lives. Lupin was horrified to hear of the demise of nearly all of the Weasleys, and turned so white at the news that Ginny thought she should be angry at herself for not feeling more remorse. "I had no idea," he said hoarsely, after he had sat there silently accepting the news. "I suppose I had assumed that, since you had already been through so much together..."

"They're okay," she insisted. "They're in a better place, with Harry and Dumbledore and everyone. I know they are."

"That Dark curse George was under definitely sounds like something Hephaestus Somner would do," he said, repeating what Draco had told her months ago. "But I suppose I'm not entirely surprised that he managed to throw it off."

"Really?" Ginny said, blinking. "All of the Healers were astounded."

"This shouldn't come as a shock, Gin, but the twins were both very powerful wizards," he said, eyes twinkling. "I had them their fifth year, if you remember. Their Defense work was always excellent -- when it was turned in, of course." They both chuckled, but Lupin sobered quickly. "That's why I'm so amazed to hear that Fred didn't make it. I imagine George must be lost without him."

"He says it's like having a phantom limb," she said sadly. "He keeps expecting to see Fred next to him."

"And Arthur, without Molly." He closed his eyes and turned away, and didn't finish his train of thought. They sat in somewhat uncomfortable silence for a long time, seated in the glass porch at the back of the mansion. And Ginny found herself suddenly longing for Draco's presence, just to hold his hand or have his arm around her shoulders. It was tiring business going through the sordid past, as necessary as it was for Lupin's sake, and she wanted to curl up in Draco's arms and feel safe.

"You're probably wondering why Draco and I haven't killed each other yet, living together," Ginny said dryly.

Lupin looked at her, bemused. "No, not really." At her frown, he went on, "I'm well aware of the famous Malfoy-Weasley feud, but that was more of an issue between Arthur and Lucius, and Ron and Draco. The rest of you never really got tied up in that."

"Even so, Lucius was the one that stuck the diary Horcrux into my books, and nearly got me killed in my first year at Hogwarts," she pointed out.

"Again, is that a reason for you to despise Draco? His father, yes, but Draco was uninvolved in the matter."

"He's arrogant," she said. "He treats everyone like they owe him something. Merlin, he even put a _Property_ Charm on me, and used it to keep me from running away from him."

Lupin chuckled. "Is this the part where I tell you he's an awful man and you have no right to feel the way you do about him?"

"Well yes --" Ginny's mind caught up seconds later. "Wait, what?"

"I'm leaving for England later tonight," he said instead. "Now that I know I can do something valuable for the Resistance, I need to get back to my home. And Tonks will have missed me," he added offhandedly, as though it had only just occurred to him.

"Tonight?"

"Draco tells me they want to open another Apparition Point and a safe house," he said. "As far as I know, my father's house is still standing, unoccupied and empty in the moors. I'll give them the secure location they need."

"Tell my dad I miss him," Ginny said, even though she really wanted to interrogate Lupin about what he thought of Draco. "I miss him and George both."

"You'll see them again," Lupin said confidently, and he patted her arm. "You'll go back to England one day, and you'll live to see it safe once more."

"I hope so," she said, sighing. "I really hope so."

Lupin told her to stay behind when he left that night, since Ginny had wanted to go with him to the International Apparition Point. "I don't want you faced with the temptation of going back with me."

"Tell them I love them so much, and I think about them every day," she said yet again, and she could feel Draco shifting uncomfortably behind her.

"I will." Lupin smiled at her before turning to Draco. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"I expect to hear that you've set everything up in one month," Draco said stiffly, and Ginny sniggered under her breath. "Mr. Winkler will then send you the necessary materials to construct an Apparition Point, and your address will be distributed through the proper channels."

Lupin nodded. "Take care of Ginny." He stepped up onto the Apparition Point in the glass porch, a small bag of his belongings hung over his shoulder.

Draco blinked, and for a moment he seemed too surprised to respond. "I -- I will, sir," he managed. Lupin smiled knowingly, and he was gone.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Lupin is the nicest wizard I've ever met, and he's thanking you, and all you've got to say is --"

"It was a business transaction," Draco snapped, stalking back into the mansion. "It wasn't anything personal."

Ginny laughed as she followed. "Dear Merlin, Draco. If I didn't already like you so much I think I'd hit you with a Bat Bogey Hex until it knocked some sense into you."

He stopped at the door to the front hall, his face half in shadows, and made a frustrated sound. "At least I helped him, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Thank you." She moved closer to him and, tilting her head back, brushed her lips against his. She felt him shiver, and he reached out to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his hard silver eyes boring into her. "I will take care of you, Gin."

"I know you will." She smiled and walked up to her room. The Quaffle was in front of his hoops now.

For days he made no attempt to rekindle the spark they had had the night of Evelyn Prentiss's birthday, and she began to despair that he would do nothing to pick up where they had left off. But why did that bother her so much? Ginny, trying to be practical and level-headed about everything -- despite the fact that all she wanted to do was run to him and snog him senseless -- decided she would think about it: everything between them, the ways in which he had changed, how she herself had changed. _Merlin, when did I become Hermione-in-training? _she thought dryly.

But she did think about him, morning, afternoon and night. She thought about him while they ate breakfast together -- he with his _Mercury Herald_, her with the _Quibbler_ -- and while she potted different plants in the greenhouse with Carthy and Gob. She thought about Draco's annoying habit of looking down at everyone, and how he rarely let on what he was thinking or feeling, while curled up with a book on her private balcony (_Keeping Your Plants Alive, Even Though You've Got a Black Thumb_ by Freya Baldung). She thought of how she liked the way the sun caught faint golden highlights in his ash blond hair, while they were out on the glass porch having tea with the Winklers. She thought about him before she went to sleep at night and he was already in her thoughts when she woke the next morning.

And, eventually, Ginny realized something she was glad Ron and Harry had not lived to see.

At least, it was something that they couldn't do anything to stop. For she had another dream one night, several weeks after Lupin returned to England and Tonks. She was sitting by the fire in the achingly familiar Gryffindor common room, and sitting in the three chairs around her were Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Now you know why we couldn't tell you," Hermione said, giving Ginny a wistful smile and squeezing her hand. "You never would have agreed to going in the first place."

Ginny sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"I'm still not entirely happy about the situation," Ron said grumpily, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I don't see why it had to be bloody _Malfoy_, of all people."

"He's changed for the better, Ronald," Hermione huffed.

"Oh, like you weren't upset when he was practically ripping her clothes off --"

"What?" Ginny shrieked, clapping her hand against her mouth. "You _saw_ that?"

Harry laughed. "I told you, we're always with you, Gin." He paused, then added, "Although I'm sure there are many things I really could have gone without seeing --"

"Tell me about it," Ron moaned. "I'm her bleeding _brother_, for Merlin's sake."

"She has the right to do whatever she wants," Hermione said primly. "It's her body, not yours."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean --"

"I'm in love with him," Ginny said softly. That grabbed their attention. "I didn't want to be at first, but... he really isn't the same annoying git he was at Hogwarts."

"Right, Gin," Ron said caustically. "A Weasley will love a Malfoy over --" He stopped abruptly and burned bright red.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione said.

He grinned lopsidedly at her. "Well," he said, "I was going to say 'over my dead body,' but..."

"Oh Ron," Ginny cried, and she burst into tears and flung herself into his arms. "You wonderful prat. I miss you so much."

"There there, Gin," Ron said, awkwardly patting her on the head. "Er -- I miss you too."

"And I wish every day that I could have saved you, somehow --"

"Oi." Ron grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her a little. "Don't blame yourself for our deaths," he said, suddenly very serious. "You couldn't have done anything in time. All right?"

"All right," she whispered.

"See? There's a reason for everything," Hermione said. "If you'd taken Arithmancy you would know that already. Everything is in a set pattern and is meant to be."

Ginny nodded and wiped at her tears. "Can I ask you guys a favor?"

"Anything, Gin," Harry said.

"Can you three not hover over my shoulder all the time? The thought frightens me a bit, actually." She shuddered but gave them a teasing smile and a wink, and she started towards the portrait hole.

"Hey," Ron said, standing. "I hope that doesn't mean you're planning on doing any more nasty things with the Ferret King --"

Ginny laughed, and she woke the next morning with a broad smile on her face.

Somehow, without her noticing, the months had slipped away from her, like fine sand through an hourglass, and summer was now fading into a wet, rainy autumn. After the relentless heat of August, damp September and soaking October were welcome respites. Ginny pulled out the luxurious cashmere sweaters she had bought back in April and made sure Draco could see her wearing them while she huddled over her afternoon tea. She was content to wait for him. She had come around, she figured; so would he in time.

Ginny remembered one day in mid-October when the temperature briefly spiked. The air was heavy and humid with condensation, and by midmorning it was raining steadily. Thinking that this might be her last chance of the year to go outdoors comfortably, before the winter winds started coming down from the Arctic, she went down by the little bay where she had swum so many times to watch the blue waves crash against the dark rocks on the outer perimeter of the island. Without an umbrella.

Her hair was soon plastered against her back and shoulders as the rain beat down on it, her clothes soaked through and stuck to her skin. She remembered doing this at home too, at the Burrow, when her brothers were bothering her and she just wanted a moment of peace, with nothing standing between her and the terrifying spectacle of Mother Nature. The rain calmed and soothed her hot temper and nerves, and cleared her mind like nothing else could.

"Don't even have the sense to come in from the rain, Weasley?"

She turned and saw Draco standing behind her, hiding safely under a wide green umbrella, a few feet back from where she was on the beach. Smiling to herself, Ginny looked back out at the water.

"What are you doing out here? Do you expect me to take care of you if you get pneumonia? Because I won't." Something about the way he said it made Ginny smile, and let her know that he didn't mean it.

"What are _you _doing out here?" she asked instead of answering.

"I went looking for you, and when I didn't find you I thought --" He cleared his throat, sounding almost angry. "I've made a decision, and I just thought I should let you know."

"I'm listening."

When he spoke again, he was much closer; Ginny turned and found him almost near enough to touch. "I always get what I want, always have," he said, his eyes boring into her. "So I've decided that I really don't care what hang-ups you might still have about me, Ginny, because I want you and I'm not going to take no for an answer anymore."

"Then answer something for me," she said, heart pounding. "Why didn't you treat me like every other witch who's come through Speedy Spouse? Why didn't you send me on my way?"

He clenched his jaw tightly, and looked down at the sodden sand a moment before replying. "Because -- I saw your picture when Melvin Winkler received the new batch of applications," he said. "I knew who you were right away, and...I remembered you from Hogwarts."

She raised her eyebrows. "So, just because we went to the same school --"

"No," he snapped. He obviously did not enjoy explaining himself, but he pushed on nevertheless. "I remembered you being this -- this stubborn, forceful girl. And you weren't that at all in the picture. And...I suppose I thought I could make you go back to the way you were before the war."

Ginny pushed her soaking wet hair off her forehead, peering at him curiously. He remembered what she was like? Hell, they had not only been in different houses, he had been a year ahead of her in school, and the singular time she remembered interacting with him was when she had cast the Bat Bogey Hex on him at the beginning of her fifth year.

"That was why you were so cruel to me on my first day," she said, as it dawned upon her.

He nodded, and the umbrella shifted in his grip. "But you were more affected by the war than I had expected, and how I was acting was too much too soon."

"And this was all done out of the goodness of your heart," she said dryly.

"No, I --" He pursed his lips, and his eyes flashed angrily. "Damnit, I _liked_ you. You were the only witch worth looking at while we were at Hogwarts. And as I said, I want you, and I always get what I want."

Ginny's breath caught in her throat. _Dumbledore said I'd find love. The man was never wrong._ "Well," she said, taking a step closer, "first we'll need to get rid of this pesky thing." She wrenched the handle of the umbrella out of his hands and tossed it down onto the sandy beach by their feet. Draco was quickly drenched by the pouring rain.

"Malfoys don't like getting their clothes wet," he said disdainfully, but his lips were quirking in a grin.

"Weasleys don't care," Ginny muttered, before she threaded her fingers through his long hair and kissed him deeply. He was not long to catch on, and she soon found herself enveloped in his warm, strong arms.

"I hope this means what I think it does," he said some time later, when breathing became necessary.

"I thought Malfoys didn't hope, they just demanded."

He gave her a crooked smile at that, one of his real smiles, and Ginny felt it all the way through to her fingers and toes despite the cool rain. "Then I demand that this mean what I think it does."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you too, you arrogant git."


	12. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is not mine.

**Epilogue: Six months later**

Ginny was awoken by the sound of Draco grunting quietly, and when she saw that it was morning she knew she would never get back to sleep. Frost coated the windows outside like lace, making her grateful for the warmth of the bed. Her stomach growled, and that sealed the deal: she was getting up. Frowning tiredly, she shifted around in the cage of his arms until they were face to face, determined that if she had to be up he did too.

"Wake up, love," she murmured, brushing his hair away from his face. She kissed him lightly on the lips, making a quick mental note that no matter how he begged she wouldn't let him kiss her without brushing his teeth first.

"Merlin, what time is it?" he groaned, blinking awake. "Thanks a lot, Weasley," he grumped, rubbing his eyes with his fists. "I was having a fantastic dream involving you and edible body paint --"

"Oh please. Like your dream was any better than when we did that last week."

"Maybe I was reliving my favorite parts." When she started wiggling out of his grasp he pulled her back firmly to his chest. "And where do you think you're going?" He proceeded to snog her very thoroughly.

"Ugh, you taste horrid," Ginny teased, pushing him away. "Brush your teeth, I think a pygmy puff died in there."

"And you taste like mint, darling," Draco said dryly.

With more ribbing and plenty of flirting, Ginny eventually got away from him and dressed in comfortable sweatpants and Ron's Chudley Cannons shirt. "Why do you still wear that ratty old thing?" he had asked the first time he'd seen her wear it. After she'd explained about the shirt and the other random bits of her brothers's clothes that she kept, he had been surprisingly considerate and understanding.

"I'll have food on the table by the time you come down," she promised.

"I've always wanted to shag you on that table," he said, and she laughed on her way out, meanwhile thinking that the dining room table might actually be an excellent place. She had to hand it to him, he had a very active imagination.

Alecta came when Ginny snapped her fingers, and she ordered toast, eggs, tea, and bangers for them both. She was about to take her customary seat at the end of the table when suddenly someone barreled through the dining room door and it wasn't Draco.

"Ginny," Lupin gasped, and then Tonks came tripping in behind him. "Thank Merlin you're up."

"Shite, did both of you Apparate here?" Ginny said, not sure whether she should be more worried about the news they must have to warrant them coming all the way from London, or that they might have splinched themselves. "Are you all right?"

"We had several stopovers," Tonks said, while Lupin caught his breath. "We're fine. Where's Malfoy?"

"Right here," Draco said, stepping into the room in his dressing gown and pajama trousers. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Lupin said, and he grinned broadly. "Quite the opposite, actually. You both remember Sibyll Trelawney, of course?"

"That old bat?" Ginny snorted. "Couldn't stand her."

"She made the prophecy about Potter," Draco said.

"She's made another one, literally just a matter of hours ago," Tonks burst out. "There's going to be another Chosen One, but this time the prophecy explicitly says that --"

"Voldemort's going to lose," Lupin finished.

"Oh my God," Ginny whispered. "Oh my _God!_" She ran to Draco and threw her arms around his neck. "We can go home!"

"You didn't just come out here to tell us that, did you?" he said suspiciously. "An owl would have done the job just as well."

Lupin and Tonks shared a knowing look before turning back to Draco and Ginny. "We wanted to deliver the message in person," Lupin said, "because it involves the two of you."

"What?" Ginny said. "One of _us _is the new Chosen One?"

"We've been puzzling over it for hours now," Tonks said, "and we're ninety-nine percent sure now that we've deciphered it. I mean, we couldn't think of anyone else that answered to the descriptions given."

"'_Like fire and ice, two houses of most ancient enmity meet_,'" Lupin quoted. "We knew right away it was the two of you."

"So we're both the Chosen One?" Draco said, frowning.

"Nope," Lupin said, smiling. "But your son will be."

"Son?" Draco said, gray eyes wide. "But Ginny -- she's not even --"

"I am _not _pregnant," Ginny cried.

Lupin's eyes shone with silent mirth. "But Gin," he said, "are you so sure of that?"

"You should have seen Arthur's face when we figured out the prophecy," Tonks said, chuckling. "He said that the two of you had better be married if you were going to have a baby."

"Well then," Draco said, "that saves me the trouble of asking." He pulled his wand out of the pocket of his dressing gown and said, "_Accio ring box_." A black velvet box flew down from the upstairs, and he carelessly tossed it to Ginny, who nearly dropped it. "I was going to do it at supper tonight."

"Oh." Tonks and Lupin were grinning as broadly as ever, and Ginny's mind was still trying to catch up with the possibility that she might be pregnant, might be carrying the next Chosen One, and that Draco was doing an awful job of asking her to marry him. "Wait, you aren't even going to bother asking?" she spluttered, glaring up at him.

"What?" he said, glaring back. "I'm not going to let you have my child out of wedlock, so there's the ring.Would you want it done here or back in London? I think I'd rather my son be born in England, so we don't have to worry about citizenship issues later when he goes to save everyone." Draco looked rather smug at the idea of his son being a hero.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're unbelievable, you know that?" She opened the box and found a ruby engagement ring -- though it was set in white gold. _A Slytherin and a Gryffindor_, she thought. _Our child would be a sight to behold._ "I want Dad and George to be there," she said, making up her mind on the spot, "and the remaining members of the Order."

"Done," Lupin said.

"I want to wear my mother's wedding robes," she added. "I think she put them in storage at Madam Malkin's."

"I can get those for you," Tonks offered.

"And I want to be married in the chapel in Ottery St. Catchpole," she finished.

"Malfoys are usually married at the sacred grove on our lands," Draco said.

"Well I'm not a Malfoy."

"You will be."

That was when it really hit her, what she had just agreed to. Grinning like an idiot, she took the ring out of the box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. Magically, it adjusted itself to fit.

"Your mum would be so happy for you," Tonks said, looking a bit misty around the eyes. "She always wanted to see her children settled."

"I wish she could be there," Ginny whispered, and Tonks reached out and hugged her tightly.

"I do hate to interrupt," Draco said, "but I think we'd better find out if Ginny is pregnant first."

"Would you still marry me if it turned out I wasn't?" Ginny said, releasing Tonks.

He snorted. "It would be difficult, but I think I could force myself to go through with it."

"Draco, I think you just made a joke."

"Malfoys don't make jokes."

Ginny laughed and threw her arms around him. "God, I hope our son avoids getting your sense of humor."


End file.
